


Phoenix Ascending - Rise and Fly too High

by Ikarus_vs_the_sun



Series: Phoenix Ascending [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Caring Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Fluff, Gen, Hurt Jack, Hurt Mac, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Whump, Mac Whump, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Parental Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), Suspense, dark mac
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:55:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28360527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ikarus_vs_the_sun/pseuds/Ikarus_vs_the_sun
Summary: Part 2 of the series 'Phoenix Ascending': Mac tries to start over with a new life, but his past won't let him. Once again he's left to tidy up his father's mess. Unfortunately, this time it also endangers the Dalton family. And while Mac tries to save everyone else, he once again ignores his own needs, which will cause the one or other argument between him and Jack, who tries his utmost to keep his kid physcially and mentally in one piece. This is a hard job in this one, because Mac jumps head first from one risk into another ignoring Jack's warning over and over again, while Jack keeps trying. However, if the drowning man doesn't realise that he's drowning but assumes that he's swimming just fine, rescue's not in sight. Thus, Jack's left asking himself how much hurt he can bear. Will Mac finally reach his breaking point and realise that he needs help? Will Jack be there for his kid?
Relationships: Angus MacGyver & Desiree "Desi" Nguyen, Angus MacGyver & Jack Dalton - Relationship, Angus MacGyver & Matilda "Matty" Webber (MacGyver TV 2016), Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Phoenix Ascending [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859413
Comments: 73
Kudos: 37





	1. Prologue: Burn it to the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> If the series was an opera, this second part could probably considered as the Second Act and Intermezzo. Mac's a little darker and maybe even a little more badass in this one, but Jack doesn't buy it.  
> As you may have seen from the tagging, with this part I dive into the topic of 'mental health issues'. At this stage I want to point out that this is not meant to offend anyone. Please consider this as my humble attempt to raise awareness to a topic which in most societies is still considered as taboo. Freedom of speech is of no use to us if social standards of decency and morality muzzle us. I guess, the last sentence is the consequence of a book I've been reading lately. Sorry for any inconvenience this migth cause.
> 
> I tried to write the story in a way, so you don't necessarily have to read the first part of the series. If it doesn't work out at some point, please let me know. I'll be happy to provide explanations.

The smell of gasoline, smoke and burnt flesh hung thick in the air. The smoke burnt in his nostrils. The sound of the licking flames that surrounded them hurt in his ears. It was way too loud and too sharp. The bright yellow and blue of the flames stung in his eyes. The hot air brushing over his skin made him want to crawl out of it. His gaze went over to Jack’s unconscious form. He had to get them out of there or they would die from smoke inhalation or get burnt. He tried to get onto all his fours. Drawing his knees up and positioning them under his body was a fight. He tried to push himself up onto his hands, but he collapsed. His arms wouldn’t carry his weight anymore. He had no strength left. He once more looked over at Jack and then crawled towards him. Jack was bleeding heavily from a cut on his forehead and a bullet wound in his abdomen. Blood seeped out of him from under his ribs. Mac tried to stop the bleeding by putting pressure on it, but his strength had left him a long time ago. He watched helplessly as Jack’s blood seeped through his fingers. Soon his hands were covered in the warm sticky juice so essential for survival. He tried, but the blood flow wouldn’t stop. There was nothing he could do to help Jack. With a shaking hand he reached for Jack’s neck and carefully felt for his pulse. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to face the music he had asked for. The pulse was still there, weak but steady. It didn’t calm him, though. Neither did it offer any kind of relief, because he couldn’t tell how long the pulse would be still beating. He was all wrapped up in failure. He failed Jack. He couldn’t rescue the one single person that so often had risked his own life for saving his fucking scrawny ass. Now it was time for him to do the same, but he simply couldn’t.

He felt the capillaries burst. He felt blood run out of his nose and eyes. He needed to get them out, but he didn’t know how. You go kaboom, I go kaboom. He never meant for that to actually happen. Jack wasn’t supposed to go with him. He wasn’t meant to go kaboom. Mac should’ve stopped Jack. He had dragged him into his shit far too often and now Jack took the brunt for Mac’s errant sense of responsibility. But maybe dying with Jack at his side was better than dying alone. He regretted his decisions, though. Jack would leave behind too many people who would have to mourn the loss of one of their own. No, Jack definitely wasn’t supposed to follow him into this Hail Mary mission of no return. However, he, for his part, couldn’t deny that maybe it was not a bad thing when it was over now. The original sin was paid off. No reason to stay any longer. The danger of creating a new sin and endangering others with it was too big. And with this final thought that everyone including him was better off when it was finally over now, he closed his eyes and fell into black oblivions that didn’t care about why he went there or why he wanted to stay.


	2. Radio Baccao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story unfolds slowly at first. Let's start with some domestic fluff at the ranch and an insight of our boys' emotional world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to all of you! Please stay healthy and safe and if you get a chance to make a dream come true, take it! Trying is never wrong. Not doing it is.

Thud, thud, thud. The dull bass and harsh drums thundered through the house. Mac groaned. ‘Reach out and touch faith’ it then droned through the room. He didn’t dislike Depeche Mode per se. But ‘Personal Jesus’ at 8 o’clock on the fourth of July? This was simply cruel. That was rough. He tried to muffle the sound by clutching the pillow tightly around his head, but it didn’t help much. Apparently, he had been mistaken. Not Depeche Mode. Marilyn Manson. That explained why the sound was rather Metallica-like. Mac instantly hoped that Jack wouldn't kill him for this comparison. Anyway, it didn’t make it any better. Mac wanted to sleep, at least two more hours. The volume was turned up a notch. He hated Sheryl. He acknowledged that she went through a hard time. He, at least, could relate to the feeling of being shipped off to the relatives by the last remaining parent. But she was fucking fourteen or still thirteen? He couldn’t tell. But he did know that she was old enough to find other means to channel her anger and understand that addressing it to others, who simply couldn’t be blamed for her mother’s shortcomings, was wrong. Maybe he should talk to her? Or to her Mom? When she found some spare time for her daughter apart from her job that was. And why in hell did he have to worry about that, while the only thing he really should be worried about was getting more sleep?

With a frustrated huff he buried deeper under the covers and pillows and tried to blend out the aggressive guitars violating his sleep. Thus, he didn’t notice Jack entering the room, who wanted to return a book he had borrowed from Mac. Turned out that his mother had not only introduced his kid to the world of literature, but also taught him a good taste in books. He sighed. He really wished his kid could’ve joined the festivities for the fourth of July, but Mac had told them that he probably couldn’t make it. He had to work day in and out in the lab. Apparently one of the rookies managed to break a vial of a serious virus. Not yet a killer virus, but bad enough to be a threat to all healthcare systems around the world. Fortunately, it only infected a handful of people. Fortunately, the rookie, too. However, now his kid was stuck in a lab to find a cure or at least something to ease the symptoms, because the virus was on its way to the black market and the only way to keep the worst from happening was to destroy the value of the virus by finding some antidote or whatever. Jack sighed again. His Mom had been heartbroken. She wanted to have all her kids around on the holiday. She was truly sad no matter how many weeks Mac would promise her to stay the next time he was around. Frank – Jack’s uncle - was a little disappointed, too. It had started a little rocky between him and Mac, but turned out to be a real bromance between the two of them. Frank happily picked up Mac’s ideas of integrating systems to safe energy by producing their own energy from renewable sources. That was their current project and Frank couldn’t wait to get it finally done. Jack didn’t even have to talk about his siblings, who had been all disappointed when Mac had told them that he probably wouldn’t come. On the other hand, Sheryl and her Mom were there, too. Their favourite target to pick on was Mac. Until now he had endured all their attacks with stoic serenity. Who knew how long until Mac finally snapped? Jack really wanted to save him that.

He put the book onto the desk which was when he realised the bed was not neatly made, but rumpled. He tilted his head and saw that there was actually something beneath the covers. It was breathing by the looks of it. He went closer and lifted the corner of the covers which were snatched out of his hand the very second in which he uncovered the secret hidden underneath. With an irritated groan, Mac flipped to the other side assuming Sheryl was on her wrath against him again.

“You can bully me all weekend, Sheryl, but please, just give me two more hours, okay? I promise, I won’t kill you then,” Mac mumbled and Jack had to stifle his laughter.

“Care to tell me when you arrived, hoss?” Jack simply asked and flopped down on the bed while Mac peeled the covers from his head to blink owlishly at Jack who had a grin plastered all over his face. He didn’t even try to hide the happiness to see his kid which filled his chest.

“Uh…hey Jack, I…sometime this morning. 4 o’clock, maybe? Dunno, really,” Mac replied and yawned. There was no way of getting any further sleep. He understood that much by now.

“Oh, you don’t know how happy everybody will be when they see you,” Jack said taking his kid into a bear-hug. It had been a while since they had seen each other. They stayed in touch. WhatsApp and mobile phones made it easy, but nothing could beat the physical presence of his kid at his side. Mac probably would have felt the same if he hadn’t been dead tired. Jack took a second to take stock of his kid. He really looked bone tired. Must’ve been a rough week then, he concluded.

“How did you survive the week?” Jack asked. He knew better than to ask whether Mac had actually slept at all that week. It was easier to make detour to achieve the goal. Mac, on the other side, was way too exhausted to put up a fight against whatever Jack would present him. He would answer every question, if he could go back to sleep.

“Coffee, espresso and red bull?” Mac answered honestly and that was when Jack knew it was bad. His kid seldomly needed stimuli to stay awake. If he did, he was about to cross his limits once again.

“Alright then, I suggest you go back to sleep for a couple of hours and I take care of our lil’ darling next door,” Jack said and got up, but didn’t leave Mac before ruffling through his hair. Mac listened to Jack’s footsteps. He could hear his low voice and the vibrating baritone as he spoke to Sheryl. He couldn’t hear what he said, but it was effective. The music was turned off. Mac sighed with relief and closed his eyes. Only a couple of hours and he would be good as new. He was not allowed those few hours, though. It wasn’t long after the last of Jack’s steps on his way downstairs echoed through the first floor when Sheryl stormed into his room.

“Every time you’re around, I get in trouble!” she screamed hysterically throwing something at him. Mac assumed it was one of the pillows on the rocking chair, but couldn’t tell with certainty. He was busy pretending to be asleep. Ignoring Sheryl, however, was sentenced with even more hysteria.

“You aren’t even supposed to be here for the weekend!” she screamed bewildered and Mac was re-assessing his decision to fly to Texas to spent the holiday at the ranch. Maybe he should’ve stayed in L.A. Bozer had offered him to spent the fourth of July with him and Leanne. He should’ve done that, because his nerves were worn thin and he couldn’t guarantee to endure Sheryl’s attitude much longer without finally blowing his top. He could feel the anger building in the pit of his stomach. That was never a good sign. He took a deep breath to smooth it over. He couldn’t ruin the day for the rest of the family only because he wasn’t capable of holding it together. He couldn’t let a fourteen-year-old – or thirteen – get to him like that.

“Yeah, Sheryl, I’m happy to see you, too,” Mac simply replied and turned away from the door – away from Sheryl. Her response was a frustrated huff.

“Mom’s right, you’re a stray,” she mimicked her mother and then left Mac alone. The last word stung. Mac flipped onto his back. He was well aware about the fact that he wasn’t a Dalton by blood. He had no right to call them his family. Jack would probably pummel him for these thoughts, but that was how he felt. Jack and his family took in a huge part of his heart. The biggest, but there was still this one remaining hole where his own family had been. It couldn’t be filled. And it was this hole that made him feel void at times, lonely at worst. He felt something contract inside. It was a familiar feeling by now. It always occurred when he tried to convince himself that there was a place he belonged to and that this place was the ranch. It was the feeling he had when the realisation of not having any family left hit him hard. Great. There was no way that he would get any more sleep. His mind was racing again. He thought about his father and his mother, about his aunt and his grandpa. He was still working on processing the past events, Codex, Russ, Kovacs. Having a normal life back – at least his standard of normal – helped. He was also realistic enough to know that he probably would never be able to make peace with what had happened.

He eventually got up, a little dizzy from lack of sleep and padded to the bathroom. A hot shower never missed its magic and it didn’t let him down this time. A little refreshed but with dark circles under his eyes that spoke volumes of what hell of a week lay behind him, he went down to the kitchen. The cluttering noises and the voices told him that the Daltons had already gathered for one of their traditional breakfast feasts. He hasn’t even entered the kitchen, when strong but gentle arms were slung around him embracing him in Edith’s bear-hug.

“Oh Angus, I’m so happy you could make it,” she said before planting a kiss on his cheek and guiding him to the kitchen table. Mac wasn’t really hungry. The coffee and energy drinks had taken a toll on his stomach. Edith must’ve read his mind when she handed him a bowl of porridge, which he gratefully took from her. He added a few berries and honey and was about to dig in when Sheryl’s slender fingers snatched the bowl away from him. Jack saw it and was about to say something, but Lucinda stepped in, grabbed the bowl and gave it back to Mac. She exchanged looks with Jack. When Clair - Jack’s cousin - asked for their help, they had said ‘yes’. Of course, they did. She was family and families held together. And they all agreed that it wasn’t easy for her. She was a working Mom and divorced. Her husband - Sheryl’s father - disappeared from the screen and couldn’t be bothered to take the responsibility of a father. So, when Clair came by one day and asked whether Sheryl could move in with them, because she needed to travel a lot for her job, they said ‘yes’. Nobody knew then, how bad Sheryl would take it and nobody had thought that it was Mac who had to take the brunt of that decision.

Mac, after all was convinced that this was going to be a rough weekend and Jack sensed that Mac’s nerves were growing thin. Hence, Jack took Sheryl aside to talk to her. He told her to stop bullying Mac. He didn’t do her any harm nor was he taking away something from her she thought would be hers only. He was part of the family like anyone else. He didn’t deserve her constant verbal attacks. Jack really tried, but the dull expression in her eyes told him that his words met deaf ears. Sheryl only huffed and told Jack if her little jokes were considered as bullying, she would like to know what Jack called what they did to poor Fred - a classmate of hers. He shook his head and grew to his full height in front of her before he said: “I don’t care how you call it. I want you to stop it. After all, Mac’s the only one in this family who really can relate to your situation and what you’re going through, and still, it’s him to use as your punching bag. That’s not fair.” Jack tried to sound as stern as possible but suppressed the growl which the lingering anger inside of him wanted to send out. He didn’t want to scare Sheryl. He only wanted her to understand.

“But it bugs me! Every time he's here, I have to put his needs over mine. Don't make the music too loud, because Mac has to sleep. Don’t eat all the cereal, because Mac might want something, too. And you’re all busy with making sure that he gets everything he wants while you forget all about me!” Sheryl snapped. The tremor in her voice told Jack that she was close to one of her hysterical fits. He took a deep breath and contemplated over what she had said. Were they really that bad? Well, his Mom sometimes had a tendency to go over board when Mac came by, because he was a seldom guest at the ranch since he had spread his wings and flew off and out of the nest. For Mac’s sake Jack had tried to stop her, because Mac was not a fan of a big fuss being made about him. But his Mom would always reply that a little fussing didn’t harm anyone and Jack agreed on that. So, he let her have it her way and told Mac to suck it up and put up with Mom’s fussing. But still, he had to acknowledge that Sheryl had a point and he did, but not without pointing out that Mac didn’t live at the ranch like all others did and only came by once in a while for short visits. So, it should be easy for her to deal with it, but Sheryl crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared at Jack. Her lower lip protruding she started pouting. Jack could tell that she would never show any understanding for this and this got his anger to a boiling point.

“Alright little missy, here’s the deal, you stop picking on Mac and if you don’t, you’ll be in serious trouble, understood?” He could see that she heard his words, but they didn’t have any effect. She didn’t take anything serious let alone any kind of pedagogical measures. Clair really had dropped the ball there and left them to deal with it. Sheryl then turned around and left him standing. Jack looked over to Mac who lifted his head and their eyes locked. Mac’s were telling him ‘forget about it. It’s okay’. Something, Mac’s eyes always said to Jack when he failed to protect his kid from the world’s unfairness. Jack was convinced that Mac by now had iron nerves, because otherwise he had no explanation for that deep rooted serenity. But was it really serenity? A critical voice in his head would ask. Or was it yet just another symptom of Mac’s tendency to neglect himself and his own needs for the sake of others? Jack feared it was rather the latter, but he was not in the mood to deepen the topic and thus he let it slide. He would make sure that Mac experienced the love and care he needed the following few days no matter what other cruelties Sheryl had up her sleeves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Mac's not happy with Jack's choice of workers. They promise trouble. Jack's not happy with his kid's emotional state. It promises trouble, too.


	3. Hit That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac's not happy with Jack's pick of workers. Jack is worried about Mac. Sheryl gives Mac a hard time. And Mac only wants a break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and leaving Kudos. I hope this story gives some joy to the one or other reader. All the best :D

Jack joined Mac on the porch. His kid was on cold caffeine withdrawal. His Mom wouldn’t allow him any caffeinated beverages and did what she did with much care and an even bigger heart: provide Mac with her herbal teas. Mac didn’t reject that treatment. After all he believed that these teas did help and if it was only for the effect of feeling at home.

Jack sat down. He was tired. He had had another of those conversations with Clair. It was a tough bargain. She didn’t accept him in the position of the patriarch. Well, she had to. It wasn’t her decision, neither had it been his. The family had decided that Jack should take over the ranch and he had followed that call. Now, the family was his responsibility and he took it very seriously. The other responsibility was Mac, who was like a red flag to Clair since the day that she arrived at the ranch and found out about the addition to the family. She prided herself with being a Dalton. Mac was none. At least not by blood. In her opinion that meant that she ranked higher in the family’s hierarchy. From her perspective this allowed her to use him as doormat, a behaviour Sheryl was more than happy to pick up. Until now Jack hadn’t been able to explain to Clair that a) there was no hierarchy in that family and b) that Mac was as much part of their family as anyone else. However, big fights were held off. Mac was working a lot and had not much time to come for visits. When he did, he simply ignored Clair’s and Sheryl’s verbal attacks. It had been Duke, who had pointed out that maybe Mac would come by more often if it wasn’t for Sheryl and her Mom. It had been thoughtless, but at the end he had only spoken out what they all suspected. It had been Frank who then got up and concluded that it was time to put an end to that curse, although nobody had an idea how to. For this, Jack once again had tried to talk to Clair. His gain was little to nothing.

Mac, indeed was growing irritated by Sherly and Clair, but had decide not to react. First of all, he didn’t want to ruin the festivities for the family by initiating an unnecessary fight with a Dalton family member. And anyway, he was in no position to make a claim on anything. That was what he thought, while the rest of the Dalton family surely would tell him different if they knew how Mac still struggled to accept that he was actually part of this family – that he actually had a family. He pushed that thought aside and watched Sherly interact with one of the workers’ boys. He didn’t like what he saw and it wasn’t related to the amorous appeal vibrating between the two.

“Who’s that guy?” Mac asked Jack. He was oblivious to Jack’s worries about Clair and the related fear that she forced Mac to leave the family before he got a chance to settle down.

“That’s Carlos. Rodriguez’ son,” Jack replied. He didn’t notice where Mac was getting at.

“You did notice the gang-tattoo?” Mac asked and then it became clear to Jack, who barely nodded. Mac went on: “Sinaloa? You know they’re dangerous. How many times did we get in between them and a deal? How many labs did we blow up?” Mac asked reminding Jack of their never-ending fight against the drug cartels. He also got what Mac was subtly implying. Sinaloa knew who Jack was. If they got a chance to kill, they would take it. But Rodriguez and Carlos were safe, Jack told Mac. He told him that Rodriguez had made mistakes in the past. But then the cartel approached his son a mere fourteen years old. His son had been about to get absorbed in the shady business of drugs when Rodriguez pulled the rip cord. He had taken his son and left Mexico. He wanted to provide his son a real future. He had been honest with them the moment that he set foot on the ranch. Jack and Frank had gotten a chance for consideration and they decided to give that man and his son a chance. Catching these guys and locking them behind bars was easy. Giving them a perspective was much harder, but probably a much more effective tool in comparison to punishment. If these people didn’t have a reason to sell, transport or even produce drugs, because they could make a living by other means, then they could save these souls. Jack was convinced that the ranch had saved two.

“They’re safe to have around?” Mac asked not fully convinced. His encounter with El Noche and the bounty on his head was enough experience for him to tell that even former cartel members were bad news. No matter whether it was el jefe or the gofer.

“He promised me not to cause any trouble,” Jack tried to calm his kid.

“Does he have it in his hands?” Mac replied critically. He wasn’t happy about seeing ex-Sinaloans on the ranch. He made a mental note to run a security check on these two when he was back in L.A. He needed some background information to assess whether these guys were as innocent as they tried to appear. They might have good intentions, but the question was whether they really left Sinaloa behind. It wasn’t like quitting the job and walking out the door. Cartels did have a tendency to resentfulness, which easily could become dangerous. He was certain that Jack knew all that. He was also sure that Jack probably had run his own background checks, but Mac needed to get his own picture.

Their conversation was interrupted by Edith carrying a trey with blue berry muffins and fresh lemonade.

“Angus, you barely ate your breakfast and you’re getting thinner and thinner again,” she started complaining while trying not to sound as worried as she was. She still noticed that Angus felt uncomfortable in the centre of her attention and didn’t take it well when he gave reason to worry.

“She’s right kid. If you turn sideways, you’ll disappear,” Jack added and was rewarded with a sigh of defeat before Mac took one of the muffins. He acknowledged that both were right. He hadn’t been eating much during the last week either. It’s been a rough week and he really looked forward to a few days of rest.

“Good boy,” Edith said with affection and then ruffled through Mac’s hair before she left. Jack grinned.

“Know what? I’ll show you my hideout and then you can get some shut-eye,” Jack said and let Mac to one of the barns. It was abandoned since all horses where outside on the pasture. Jack led Mac to a hidden place under the roof where the hay was neatly stacked up. It was a little corner behind the hay bales where he hid a little cot for the busy times when he was up early until late. Such a hideout was worth a million in such times. It helped him through the busy days. Fifteen minutes. He never needed more. But these fifteen minutes kept him sane when the cattle were nervous, the horses developed their own opinion and the workers were way too busy as to keep up with the weather forecast promising rain and storm. Mac was more than thankful to be introduced into Jack’s precious hideout. He really needed a few more hours solid sleep. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow on the cot, but he did notice Jack’s temples turning grey and he asked himself whether he was the reason for it. He took the question with him to sleep. Jack was satisfied that his kid finally rested. He would come by later and check on his kid. Mac used to be hunted by nightmares in stressful times. He hadn’t forgotten about that. But for now, he would relish the peacefulness.

The peacefulness was disturbed by a high-pitched scream that echoed from the barn to the main house only one and a half hours later. Jack sighed and sprinted to the barn to see what Sheryl had done this time. He still hadn’t gotten used to his leg being permanently impaired. Thus, he nearly toppled over when his leg threatened to give way under his weight as he started his sprint. He quickly regained his balance, though, and ignored the strain in his leg. On his way he was joined by Frank and his brother Donald. They climbed up the ladder and then went to the cot. They immediately knew what must have happened. They spotted Sheryl standing there holding her cheek with one hand tears spilling from her eyes like waterfalls whereas Mac sat on the cot panting and trembling heavily with his legs drawn up tightly to his chest. Jack ran to his kid and crouched down in front of him.

“Hey Mac, you with me?” he asked, but got no reaction. He cursed himself. He shouldn’t have left his kid.

Mac was back in that hidden basement and chained to a chair. He felt the sting of the IV needle in the crook of his elbow. He thrashed against the cuffs but without success. Murdoc appeared with a dirty and sadistic grin on his face. It made Mac’s skin crawl and he tried even harder to get free. Murdoc stepped closer and then turned the needle in his arm. It stung. It tore against his skin and he tried to get away from that sensation. Murdoc raised his index-finger in a disapproving manner. He reproached Mac for his behaviour before he slapped his face. Hard. Mac tried to fight, tried to attack and used all his bodily force to fight his attacker. He was alone. He was on his own. Nobody would come for him this time. He had pushed Jack away. Too hard this time. He wouldn’t come. Mac had forced him to leave. But that shouldn’t matter. He was raised to survive on his own. But then he heard some words echoing from far away. He couldn’t believe in them. It couldn’t be the warm familiar voice that always got him out of every mess.

“What the hell happened here?” Jack heard Clair ask hysterically, but it was nothing but a background noise. His attention was focused on his kid who obviously was still caught in a nightmare. So, he didn’t register that Sheryl replied in between sobs: “He hit me, while I tried to wake him up. I swear…I didn’t do anything, he just…hit me.”

“Hey kid," Jack meanwhile tried to get Mac's attention, "I don’t know where you are right now, but I can tell you that’s not real. It’s just a dream. You’re safe, here at the ranch. I’m there,” Jack mumbled soothingly to Mac. He put his steady hands on Mac’s trembling frame. He looked into the blue orbs which were Mac’s eyes. Mac was returning to him, slowly. The hunted look was replaced by increasing awareness. Mac felt Jack’s hands on his shoulders. He heard Jack talking to him. He tried to turn his attention to what Jack said.

“You back with me kid?” Jack asked again. Mac blinked at him. He was confused. Only one second ago he had been in a mouldy basement alone with Murdoc and now he sat on a cot in a barn staring at Jack. Nightmare. Mac fought for control when he felt his body tremble and his breath going fast.

“Jack? I…uhm…,” he said to signal Jack that he was back with him. Jack relaxed. The worst was over.

“Relax, Mac. Everything’s fine. It was just a bad dream,” Jack said, but Clair intervened: “Nothing’s fine. He hit Sheryl!” At that Mac’s head shot up and his eyes landed on Sheryl who still held her cheek. Guilt settled down heavily in his stomach. He didn’t want that to happen.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…,” Mac tried to apologise, but Clair wouldn’t listen to it and took her daughter to the kitchen to get her cheek cooled. Nobody wanted a kid with a bruise in her face on the fourth of July. Jack felt bad for Mac. His kid already had a rough time with the two feme fatales. This here would only complicate things. There was another act of diplomacy required.

“Jack, take care of Mac. I’ll go and talk to Clair and Sheryl,” Frank offered and left the barn. Mac had trouble processing what went on. He had been deep asleep when the nightmare had caught hold of him. It took a while for him to get his bearings back together. But Jack was there to help. He sat down next to his kid and wrapped an arm around the thin body. He pulled him tightly against his side. Mac, who was still half way consumed by his nightmare, rested his head against Jack’s shoulder. He still felt so awfully tired. And scared. Jack noticed Mac’s uneasiness about the situation and thus said: “No worries Mac. These things happen. How often did I send you to the floor while I was fighting with a nightmare?” Jack was right, but it didn’t make Mac feel any better, because he was supposed to be in control. Lately, however, control had become a slippery thing. It slipped out of his hands and Mac was losing his grip. That was scary, too. In fact, there were a lot of things that scared him lately. Mac sighed. He really needed a break.

Frank stood in the kitchen with Edith, Clair and Sheryl who held an ice pack against her already bruising cheek. Frank winced at the sight. Mac really had some strength in his left arm. He wished it had been one of the boys and not Sheryl. The boys would’ve understood. They would’ve taken the hit and would’ve known that it was an accident. With Clair and Sheryl, however, it was different. Clair never hid her dislike for Mac. Now she had good reasons to rant on about this dubious man nobody knew where he came from and what his background was. At least that was what she thought.

“He’s dangerous. Aggressive, even. I don’t want a man like that around my daughter,” Clair started and Edith tried to understand her, but failed. They all knew that it had been an accident. Heck, Angus himself dismayed violence. Everybody knew that.

“Then Sheryl should stay away from Angus,” Frank concluded. Clair gasped sharply for air not believing what Frank had just said that.

“But this is Sheryl’s home!” exclaimed.

“And it is Angus’, too,” Edith countered. It had been hard enough to make Angus comfortable enough to use the keys to the ranch. In fact, this had been the first time he had made use of them. It was the first time that he hadn’t called Jack beforehand and asked whether it was okay if he came by. She didn’t want this progress to be ruined by a stupid accident.

“But he hit Sheryl, look at this. It’s already turning black and blue,” Clair went on. Frank sighed. He exchanged looks with Edith. Both knew that Clair had a bad conscience, because she had only little time for her daughter. Therefore, she let Sheryl get away with everything and sought blame for whatever that went wrong on others. They understood, but it wasn’t the right way forward. Not if it was about to destroy the family peace.

“Clair, Sheryl,” Frank started another monologue of which he knew that it would not be heard, but of which he felt the need to say it anyway. He owed that to Angus: “Angus did not hit you, Sheryl, wilfully. He was having a bad nightmare and he didn’t snap out of it immediately. You saw it. He thought he was attacked and just fought back. He didn’t recognise Sheryl or the situation,” Frank explained what all of them should be aware of by now: vet’s PTSD.

“That doesn’t make him any less dangerous. The contrary, even,” Clair replied and of course she would.

“Clair, we told both of you that this household accommodates veterans: Jack, Donald, Henry, I and Angus,” Frank went on. “We’ve all seen war and its cruelties. We’re all having our fair share of PTSD to deal with. We can consider ourselves lucky that it’s ‘only’ nightmares. And I and probably even Jack, Donald and Henry told you both more than once to stay away from vets with nightmares and not try to wake them. We did so with good reason. I guess now, you both understand why,” Frank closed his monologue and saw Clair fuming with fury.

“Mac’s been in the Army?” Sheryl asked bewildered.

“He was only four years older than you are now when he took responsibility and was deployed to protect our soldiers and our country,” Edith replied shuddering at the thought of how young her boys had been when they decided to put their lives at stake for the sake of others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: The festivities will be disturbed by some teenager gone wild. Mac gets confronted with some unpleasant emotions. To sum it up: the few days of rest he had been looking forward to are effectively ruined.


	4. Real wild child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4th of July and Sheryl's still on her wrath against Mac, but this time, she crosses a line. How will Mac react?

Mac went to his room to find another shirt or hoodie to put on, because he started to feel cold. He knew that it wasn’t actually cold outside. It was in the middle of summer in Texas. Of course, it wasn’t cold. It was rather the lack of sleep making itself known. But the BBQ had just started and retreating for the night at this time was impolite and could give reasons to worry. Mac definitely wanted to avoid both after the hassle he had already caused that day. He opened the door to his bedroom and froze in his tracks when he found Sheryl standing in front of the dresser. She turned around when she noticed his presence and like a thief caught in the act gaped at him. She dropped the box she held in her hands. Mac watched the box fall to the floor. It was the one he kept the memories of his family in: his parents, his grandpa and even Gwen. He had brought it to the ranch one day. Somehow, he had thought it was safe to keep it here. Now he wasn’t that sure anymore.

He needed a few seconds to process the situation but then asked sternly: “What are you doing here, Sheryl?” This was definitely too much. Going through his things was not okay, but he could live with that. Privacy was a luxury that had a high price called loneliness. He had learnt that much. That box, however, was a ‘no go’. He hasn’t even shown it and its contents to Jack. It was only meant for him during those hours when he missed them the most: his parents and his grandpa. Sometimes he would even miss Gwen although he hardly knew her. The contents of that box were his grief but also its remedy and it only belonged to him. Nobody else.

“Who’s this?” Sheryl asked holding up a picture. She sobered up fast from the shock which being caught had sent through her. Mac looked at the picture. It showed his parents. They stood arm in arm and smiled into the camera. The sting that went through Mac’s heart was bad and Mac blamed the still lingering sleep deprivation for that.

“Nobody you need to know,” Mac replied curtly. He wouldn’t talk to Sheryl about his parents. That was simply not her business. Heck, he rarely spoke to Jack about his parents let alone his childhood.

“Well, they do have a bad haircut,” she said smugly and then carelessly dropped the picture to the floor. Mac saw the picture sailing to the ground like autumn leaves. Thrown in the dirt like the wrapper of chewing gum. Seeing the picture fall to the floor as if it had no meaning felt wrong. It hurt, because it meant a lot to Mac. Probably too much. “ _Stop being so emotional_ ”, James MacGyver’s famous words flashed through his head. They sucked, but they were true. Emotions got you killed. They distracted you and you lost focus. Two things he couldn’t afford in front of Sheryl.

Sheryl was about to leave the room and squeeze past Mac who still stood in the doorframe. Although of his father’s words, his eyes were still glued to the picture which now lay on the floor. Sherly’s attempt to run away from him got his attention back to her. He looked up at Sheryl in an attempt to say something. It was only then that he realised that she wore his father’s MIT hoodie. Mac had kept it after he had cleared out his Dad’s apartment.

“Sheryl, take off the hoodie,” he prompted Sheryl. His voice turned cold while he blocked her way.

“What if not? Will you hit me again?” she replied not the least impressed my Mac’s threatening posture. Mac was way too angry as to give a damn about what she had just implied. In fact, he would have loved to strangle her on the spot. Heck, he could even do this without leaving any traces. He shoved that idea aside and instead, he reapted his prompt: “Sheryl, you’re crossing a line here, so please take off the hoodie.” The suppressed anger which sat in his chest – an anger he could hardly control – caused a tremor in his voice. It was a tremor that could easily erupt into yelling and screaming. But Sheryl didn’t give a shit about what Mac said and pushed him with all her force out of her way. This movement caught Mac off guard, because he was past his limits. After the week that lay behind, he simply didn’t fire on all cylinders anymore. Thus, Mac tumbled backwards. He had trouble to regain his balance. The second he realised what had happened, she was already down stairs. Mac dashed after her calling her name. He yelled after her that she should take off the damn hoodie, but she didn’t listen. When he reached the driveway to the main house, he saw how she got into the black truck that was already waiting for her. Carlos sat behind the wheel. He must have floored the gas pedal, because he left the driveway with screeching tyres.

“Fuck!” Mac screamed and then turned around to get back to the bedroom. He kneeled down and picked up the picture Sherly had dropped so utterly careless to the floor. A sunbeam of the setting sun fell onto the picture. It made his parents’ smile appear even brighter and happier. The picture was taken only shortly before Mac was born. He had found it in his father’s things. He had found a lot of things there. He had never imagined his father being the sentimental type of man, but he probably had been. His father had kept a lot of pictures in a box just like Mac did. It had hurt to see the numerous pictures of him - Mac. Some of them had been taken a long time after his father had left. An evidence that his father had kept tabs on him during all these years. Mac knew the one or another picture and suspected that someone – his grandpa – had sent them to his father. Others were even new to Mac and it was a little scary to think about where his father had gotten those pictures from. Mac had debated whether to keep these pictures or to bin them. Keeping them felt way too narcistic for him, but then Jack had intervened and told him that he would take them. Mac had no idea what these pictures could possibly mean to Jack, but he knew that family had another meaning for Jack. Maybe he saw a value in these pictures Mac yet had to find out about and therefore, he had decided to let Jack keep them.

“Hey hoss, you fell asleep or what takes you so long?” he heard Jack’s voice from behind. Jack was about to offer his kid that he should go to sleep. This was family and family allowed you to retreat early when you obviously hadn’t slept in days. They still had the other days. No need to waste all energy for one evening. But then he saw his kid kneel on the floor and collect photos which he put carefully in a box. Jack knelt down next to him and saw the pictures. His heart sunk.

“What happened?” he asked anticipating the worst. Not even a year ago, he had watched Mac break down – losing it and losing himself. He still remembered the feeling of fear he had felt back then. It had been a long tedious way for Mac to rise from the ashes. He hadn’t made it to the finish line, yet. There were still those underlying issues that had to be addressed on one point or the other to make Mac heal properly. It was a calm that heralded a storm. Everyone was aware of it and though nobody had the courage to intervene.

“Sheryl,” Mac replied. He was busy putting everything back into the box. Jack rubbed a tired hand over his face. Now Sheryl had crossed a line. Jack picked up the anger and hurt that Mac’s voice conveyed when he answered him. Mac didn’t even try to hide his frustration about Sheryl’s behaviour and since it was Jack whom he talked to he even added a sadly spoken: “She took my Dad’s hoodie, too,” which got Jack’s blood to the boiling point.

“Where’s she now?” he asked. Jack was ready to give that lady a full Dalton rundown. The sadness in his kid’s voice and the distressed expression on Mac's face when he told Jack that Sheryl had taken that damn hoodie, was enough to make Jack’s alarm bells blare harshly. Because Jack saw that his kid still hadn’t gotten back his grip onto solid ground. He was still reeling.

Yes, they cured the symptoms. Mac slept and ate. He appeared relaxed and at ease. He did his job and as usually exceeded all expectations. He was back to saving the world on a daily basis and he was good at what he did. This, however, was nothing but an outer appearance. Mac still drove too close to the edge and sometimes it seemed that it wouldn’t take much to tip him over. Like what Sheryl did could do just that. An inconsiderate action could send his kid spiralling, especially if it had to do with Mac’s family.

This was still a sore spot. Jack saw that Mac still had a hard time to wrap his head around his mother’s true character. He still sought a rational answer to his father’s actions for example why he had left him, came back and then gave his life for his – Mac’s. And there were other issues making themselves known. Those issues, which Mac had stuffed into boxes which he had dumped in a black site in his mind. Jack couldn’t tell what it was. He could tell, though, that there was a latent crisis. With Mac being exhausted as he was, Sheryl could easily trigger something nobody was prepared for.

For this Jack asked his kid: “Are you okay?” Because in fact, Mac looked a little shaken by Sheryl’s newest coup. Mac looked up. Somehow, that question caught him off guard and he stuttered like an old engine: “Uh…I…,uh,” he was about to tell Jack that he was simply tired and longed for a good long night’s sleep. Since Sheryl wasn’t there this could even become true. But he didn’t give in to this peccadillo. There was something nagging in the back of his head. It nearly felt like a voice telling him to suck it up and pull himself together. It was almost scary, because it seemed like someone was talking to him. But Jack’s lips didn’t move. Mac took a deep breath. Whatever it was, it was right. He had to pull himself together. There was no need to fall apart over the mischief of a hormonal and stupid teenager. So, he put on his most convincing smile and finished his sentence: “I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“Liar,” Jack muttered. Mac’s eyes gave it away. They always did. Mac could try to hide as much as he wanted, but he couldn’t hide anything from Jack. Since he had returned or better since Mac had rescued him from Kovacs, Jack had gotten determined to pay even more attention to Mac’s behaviour, his voice, mimic and gestures. It had scared him out of his skin to find out that his kid had changed in a way that he couldn't read him anymore. Jack had to re-learn how to read Mac. But he had done it anyway. He had to, for his kid’s sake. Mac still had no sense of self-preservation, was still pushing himself too far. It had gotten worse, even, since the Codex debacle. Mac had become even more eager to show no weaknesses, to give no reasons for complains. Mac was striving for perfection. From Jack’s point of view an unhealthy goal. From Mac’s point of view only natural. He had been raised and taught to solve problems on his own. He was capable of doing just that. “ _So, why settle for less if you could give everything you have_?” was something Mac’s Dad had always asked when Mac for example interjected that a C in biology was fairly enough to pass a class or that one didn’t need a whole electric generator for one light bulb. And to be fair, as annoying as it had been back then, his father has had a point there. Jack didn’t know about this as he hardly did know anything about Mac’s childhood. Mac didn’t let many details slip. However, he didn’t need to know about his kid’s childhood when it was about realising that Mac was in the dire need for a break.

However, that break slipped into the far future when it was decided that someone had to find Sheryl and drag her sorry ass back to the ranch. Clair was beside herself. It was the fourth of July. A family day in her opinion. And anyway, Sheryl hadn’t asked her permission whether it was okay for her to go out. The fact that she went through Mac’s things before and took away something of unfathomable sentimental value blended into the background. Probably, they should consider themselves lucky that Clair wouldn’t let Sheryl’s behaviour slide this time. They could worry about the reasons later.

There had been no questions asked on who would be the lucky ones befallen with the task of catching a teenager going astray. Jack had snapped that it was Clair’s job to go and find her daughter. She claimed that she had already had one glass of wine too many. Jack wasn’t sure whether it was true or just a cheap excuse to get him and Mac tidy up her mess. Mac hadn’t been happy about that choice either. He was way too tired to put up with nasty teenagers. If it had been on him, he probably would’ve said ‘fuck it’ and stayed at the ranch. From his point of view Sheryl was old enough to make her own decisions and live with the consequences. Sheryl surely would come back at some point of time. Mac also knew that the pedagogical value of such a reaction was non-existent. Sheryl wasn’t his daughter, though. He didn’t care. He doubted that there was any educational or pedagogical method to tame her anyway. Why bother now? Not everybody shared that opinion, though. And since Mac’s sleep deprived brain didn’t possess many filters, Mac’s opinion had caused another hysterical fit. Clair yelled at him: “Sheryl’s a child, my child. She needs to be protected. She can’t assess the consequences of her decisions. She’s too young for that!” Which got Mac to mutter dryly: “When I was her age, I survived a week in the woods with nothing but my Swiss army knife.”

Jack sensed that the situation was about to escalate as Clair was about to phrase a response. Thus, he wrapped an arm around Mac’s shoulders and led him outside and to the truck. Before he started the car, he turned to face his kid. Mac realised that he probably should’ve swallowed down his words and apologised: “Sorry, shouldn’t have said that.” But Jack shook his head: “Nothing to be sorry for. Nice to see you’re only a human being, too.” Jack said causing a small smile to emerge on Mac’s face. Then, with Duke’s words in his mind, Jack went on: “I know Sheryl’s not easy. Just, please do me the favour and let me know if she’s getting too much, alright?”

“You’re afraid that she’ll get me down?” Mac asked bemused and Jack was glad that the pendulum was about to get back to its outbalanced swinging.

“She even forced Frank to his knees. I cannot rule out that she does the same with you. Compared to her our common baddies seem like little lambs.” With that out of the way and the mood lightened up, Jack started the car and drove off.

Now Jack and Mac were on their way to town. There were not many places for teenagers like Sheryl and Carlos. Mac, on the other side, wasn’t really happy about the fact that instead of sitting at the ranch and relax, he was now chasing teenagers gone wild.

“There,” Mac said and pointed to a black truck in front of them. It was the truck Carlos and Sherly had left the ranch with. What happened then was a matter of seconds. Mac registered it as if it happened in slow motion. His mind would save every scene as if it was a camera which took pictures of every millisecond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Find out what Mac does see and whether the family festivities can still be rescued.


	5. The kids aren't alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's get the show on the road and the action begin. A warm-up for the heavy whumping in the later chapters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M: Since this chapter contains some explicit descriptions of injuries. Just to be on the safe.

The black truck crossed the intersection. The traffic light had just jumped to green. The cars coming from the other directions were supposed to wait. Red traffic lights. But there was one red SUV crossing the intersection with high-speed ignoring the red light. The SUV crashed into the tail of Carlos’ black truck and sent it spinning around its own axis before the motion was stopped by a lamppost. Jack stepped on the brakes in the very moment he saw the red SUV cross the intersection anticipating what would happen next. The car came to a screeching halt only a few yards away from the wreckage. They jumped out of their car not paying any attention to the red SUV. The kids were their first and only priority.

Mac sprinted to the passenger side of the car. They had luck. The SUV and the lamppost crashed into the tail of the car. However, the impact had been strong enough to inflate the airbags. Mac and Jack tried to open the doors of the truck to get the kids out, but the doors were locked. Mac didn’t think twice before he smashed the window with his left elbow. He reached through the now splintered glass. Shards of glass still poked from the frame. One bit into Mac’s forearm when he reached inside to unlock the door. He ignored the sharp pain of the glass shard slicing through his forearm and opened the door. Sheryl and Carlos were both unconscious. Sheryl was bleeding heavily from a cut on her forehead. Mac carefully pulled her out of the wreckage. His right arm was not of much help, but a little was better than nothing. The ability to lift his right arm to a forty-five-degree angle had greatly changed his everyday life and it was worth a million in situations like these. Mac carried Sheryl to the lawn in front of the church. The cut on his forearm protested against the strain. He felt the warm blood from the cut trickle down his forearm before it was absorbed by the fabric of his shirt. But Mac had more important things to do than to worry about that. Thus, he shoved his own pain aside and went back to his task at hand. Jack, who had carefully slid Carlos’ unconscious body out of the wreck, placed the motionless body next to Sheryl. He quickly assessed Mac and Sheryl, but immediately concluded that Mac as usual had everything under control.

Mac kneeled down next to Sheryl and checked for a pulse, while Jack checked Carlos over. Mac caught a concerned glance from Jack. Sheryl’s pulse was regular and steady. That gave reasons for hope. Besides the cut on her forehead there were no other obvious injuries. He checked her breathing which sounded fine to him. No blocked airways and no crackling sound in her chest. Mac gently slapped her cheeks to get her back to consciousness. He saw her eyes flutter. Then her eyes opened slowly. She looked at him. It was this confused look which he had seen way too often from people he cared about. The look from someone who had been violently knocked out without warning. She tried to get up, but Mac carefully pushed her back down not wanting her blood pressure to tank. She asked him confused what had happened. He explained to her that they had been in an accident. He asked her if anything despite her head hurt. Her arm. Mac carefully took her arm into his hands and shoved the sleeve of the hoodie up. The arm turned already black and blue. Mac could tell that it was broken. He was about to get back to the wreck to check whether there was something he could use to splint the arm with. But his attention was drawn away from Sheryl when Jack’s calm but alarmed voice said: “Mac, we have a problem here.” A crackling sound came from Carlos’ chest. He had obviously trouble breathing. Probably a broken rib had punctured a lung. Mac listened. This was no good. Carlos was about to choke. Jack and Mac exchanged concerned looks. At the end of their silent conversation, they agreed that they had to do something.

Their conversation was interrupted by one of the bystanders who told them: “Help will be here in fifteen minutes. There was a big accident on the highway that’s why it’s taking them longer.” Mac looked into Jack’s eyes that told him that Carlos didn’t have that much time. Mac nodded and got up. The course of action had been decided on. He went back to the wreckage looking for a pen or something else he could use as a tube. He found a thick plastic straw still wrapped in paper. He also took Sheryl’s purse and tossed it over to Jack. Jack knew what Mac needed so he searched the small bag for a disinfectant. He found it and tossed it over to Mac. Jack also knew what Mac was about to do. He had seen him doing it more than once. Way too often. He ripped Carlos’ shirt in two shredded halves. His torso was bruising already. Both men were hyper focused.

“Jack?” Sheryl’s hysteric voice shrilled through the air. Jack tried to blend her out as he did with the gaping bystanders. He had to concentrate, keep his focus on his task. It was difficult, though. A kid was about to die beneath his hands and that was different from an army mate or an agent or whomever he used to rescue during his life.

“Jack!? What’s going on?” Sheryl shrieked once more in between sobs and then something snapped and Jack lost it: “Sheryl, shut up!” he yelled at her with fully meant irritation. But it didn’t get better. Rather the contrary, because then one bystander stepped up to Jack and asked: “Don’t you think we should wait for the paramedics to arrive?” The bystander’s eyes nervously went over to Mac, who was heating up his Swiss army knife with the fire of a lighter. Jack hated those people who had no clue. Jack and Mac had performed more field surgeries than they cared to count. How could these people possibly dare to put into question their expertise? Heck, Jack would rather let Mac perform an emergency surgery in the field than anyone else when it was touch and go. It spoke volumes of the trust he had in his kid and his skills.

He was painfully aware that he like everyone else thought his kid capable of the impossible. An expectation that pushed his kid too often too far for too long forcing him to exceed his limits again and again. And he heard his mother’s words of warning replay in his head. She had pointed out that these never ceasing but continuously increasing expectations were part of the problem. Jack stopped that track of thoughts and went back to his task. He turned around and considered the guy with his best death glare before he snapped: “The kid doesn’t have that much time.” Then he spread the disinfectant over Carlos’ chest. He looked over to Mac who by now was hyper focused. Jack nodded and then Mac went to work. With steady hands and surgical precision, he cut through the skin and tissue over Carlos’ ribs. Blood oozed out of the wound. It ran over his fingers when he opened the wound so he could insert the straw and put it into the right place. Mac improvised a chest tube that helped to drain the blood from Carlos’ lung and kept him from suffocating. There was not one doubt that Mac would rescue Carlos. Jack simply knew that. That was what his kid did. He paused at that thought. He really should stop this. Jack had to stop expecting his kid to always safe the day. How else was Mac supposed to get a break and accept the losses from the past which he all of them considered as outcome of his personal failure? But the whistle of the air that escaped from the chest through the straw and the flow of blood was the evidence that once again Mac didn’t let them down. He had fulfilled all expectations. Another saved day. Another check mark on the list that proved that he remembered what he had been taught. Another proof that he was trained to never fail.

They were now waiting for news on Carlos. Sheryl had sustained a concussion, bruised ribs and a broken arm. She would have to stay in hospital for a few days. But the doctors had assured them that she would be just fine. They didn’t have any news on Carlos, though. He had been alive when they brought him in, but it was severe. Jack was pacing nervously up and down, while Mac stood still in one corner a little away from the rest of the family. Mac was nervous. He started fidgeting. He stopped himself and grabbed his left forearm to keep his hands still. An involuntary hiss escaped his lips when the cut on his forearm protested against the insult. Jack’s head shot up and into Mac’s direction.

“You alright, hoss?” Jack asked with a concerned face. The lines of pain around Mac’s eyes worried him. Mac tried to brush off Jack’s worry by replying: “Yeah, just a cut. Nothing to worry about.” He hadn’t even finished the sentence when Jack was by his side and took his arm gently into his hand. He carefully shoved up the sleeve of Mac’s shirt and revealed an angry looking, at least four inches long gash on Mac’s forearm. Jack inhaled sharply before he cast a scolding look to Mac who immediately defended himself by pointing out: “It’s not bad, Jack. It’s just a cut. It even stopped bleeding before I touched it.” But Jack wouldn’t have any of it. He shook his head and replied: “You better let the service staff around here be the judge of that.” Jack beckoned a nurse to come over. It took her one look at the wound to share Jack’s concerns and against his will Mac was whisked away back to the ER to get his cut treated.

Mac had been right. It was a simple cut that luckily didn’t require stitches. Cleaning and disinfecting the wound hurt anyway. Mac blamed his tiredness for his hypersensitivity. Half an hour later he was back with the rest of the family sporting a nice big, white bandage on his forearm. They still waited for news on Carlos and for Sherly to be settled in a room. When Edith spotted him back in the corner where Mac had hid before, she rushed over to him and took him into her arms. She had been too absorbed in her thoughts. When her attention had returned to the here and now and Mac hadn’t been there, she had started to worry. Jack had told her that Mac was just being treated for a cut on his forearm. Nothing to worry about. She had scolded Jack anyway for not letting her know immediately. Now she held her bony and youngest chick in her arms and asked: “Angus, honey, are you alright? Shall one of the boys drive you home so you can rest?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Really. It’s just a cut. Let’s focus on the kids,” Mac replied with these kind eyes which always made Edith' heart break into pieces. This expression was not only meant to tell her not to worry. It also conveyed Mac’s belief that he wasn’t someone to be worried about – that he was the last one on a very long list of people who were so much more important than him. She tightened her embrace around him. If he could only feel it. Then she let go of him only to let him know: “I’m so sorry for this, Angus. You should sit at home and rest now. Instead, you are stuck here. And that's after the week that's behind you. So please, if you want to go home and lie down just say a word and someone will bring you back to the ranch. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.” Mac was about to say that this wasn’t really necessary when Clair whom everybody had forgotten about piped up: “I guess nobody wants to be here right now.” Her tone was bitter and cold. It sent chills down Mac’s spine and even Jack would have to admit that Clair’s tone was scary. But Edith was unimpressed and walked over to her to face her.

“None of us would have to be here now if your daughter hadn't completely run riot once again,” Edith pointed out which got Clair to shriek: “That’s unfair!” But Edith wouldn’t have any of it and said: “No. What’s unfair is that your daughter ruined our family BBQ. Unfair is that Mac has to spend one of his few rare days off with fighting off Sheryl’s attacks and then instead of resting at home he has to spend his evening in the hospital. Not fair is that you and your daughter pick on Mac, although he hasn’t done any harm to anyone and it’s not fair that you let your daughter get away with everything and let us put up with the consequences.” Jack saw how the redness of embarrassment crawled up Mac’s neck towards his face. Obviously, he didn’t like to be in the centre of an argument let alone being its subject. Clair was about to enter into the second round of the verbal exchange when Mac’s cell phone rung. Matty. Mac thought about not taking the call. His thumb hovered over the reject button, but then his sense of duty kicked in and he accepted the call.

“Matty, really a very bad timing, I…” he was cut off. He had to get back to the Phoenix ASAP. No further explanation or ‘I’m sorry to ruin your weekend’. Mac’s heart dropped. It felt wrong to leave now, but Matty hadn’t given him a choice. She told him he had to coordinate a mission which was about to start within the next few hours. The jet was already waiting for him. Mac didn’t want to leave. He wanted to wait for news on Carlos. He wanted to be there for Jack when he started to blame himself for what happened. He wanted to be there for Edith who was more affected by the circumstances than she wanted to let on. It wasn’t fair to turn his back on his family under such circumstances. He felt like he was about to betray them. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about it. He either went voluntarily or Matty had her means to haul his ass back to L.A. Mac turned to Jack who immediately saw the apologetic look on Mac’s face and yes, Matty’s voice had been audible in the whole waiting area. He also noticed Mac’s uneasiness about the situation. Understandable, but no need to give his kid a hard time about it.

“I have to …,” Mac started and Jack ended his sentence: “…go and save the world.” The weekend was now officially ruined. This accident, Sheryl’s behaviour. All of this could’ve been considered as part of a crazy family weekend. But now his kid had to leave the party, too. That was what hurt Jack.

“Sorry,” Mac said and Jack stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. The last thing the kid needed was a bad conscience for something that was out of his hands. He pecked the top of his kid’s head before he reluctantly let go of him.

“Sorry for ruining the festivities,” Mac said to Edith and Frank and then left. The jet was already waiting. He left with a really bad feeling. Maybe it had been a bad idea to fly down to Texas. Maybe he should’ve stayed in L.A. Safe everyone the hassle. Little did he know that nobody blamed him for it.

A sigh of relief went through the family when the doctors said that Carlos would make a full recovery. Destiny had shown mercy. Jack texted Mac immediately. He knew that his kid would beat himself up for the past events on his way back to L.A. Upon reading the text, Mac felt a little lighter, but not much. The guilt for leaving his surrogate family with this alone weighed heavy like granite on his heart.

Edith took the plastic bags with the kids’ cloths or rather with what was left of it. Her heart sank at the sight of the dark blue MIT hoodie. Blood stains she probably could’ve washed out. However, she couldn’t repair a hoodie that was cut off as part of the emergency procedure. She exchanged a look with Jack who sucked in the air sharply. That definitely needed another conversation with Clair. Mac didn’t let on his emotions very often. He also wasn’t known for someone to act upon emotions. But he did at times, like with this hoodie. When they had cleared out James MacGyver’s apartment, Mac performed his usual pragmatism. He donated most of his father’s things. There had only been a handful of things he kept. Jack had seen the emotions chase over Mac’s eyes when he had decided that he wanted to keep them. Jack had never seen such a deep-rooted pain in anyone else, but his kid and somehow it appeared as if this pain even deepened after Mac now had lost all his blood relatives. Jack was reluctant to consider anyone of the clan as family, because they didn’t deserve it from his point of view. But that was beside the point. Edith and Jack both looked at the hoodie. Both had a bad feeling about it. It was like a bad omen. Something was about to come up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Another M rated one. Find out about the mission and who's responsible for the accident here. Mac rips Matty a new one. Riley and Desi are back, too and Mac has to realise that maybe he's not as well as he thinks he is.


	6. Tiny Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission goes south. Desi has a secret. Riley walks around Mac like on eggshells and Mac probably should go on a vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M - description of dead bodies

The mission went south. It had been doomed to failure from the very beginning. Mac should’ve realised that the CIA provided bad intel, but he has had no time to think about it. There was a team out there, his team, and it was in danger. They were trapped and thus Mac took Desi, her TAC team and high-tailed to El Paso.

There was a new designer drug on the market. It was extremely performance-enhancing and therefore mainly used by extreme athletes and body builders. Unfortunately, this drug had two major side-effects: once taken you were immediately addicted and at the end of the trip one went through a sensory hypersensitivity. However, most of the users didn’t come to live through this. They died from internal bleedings instead. For quite some time now, the CIA tried to find the source of distribution, but without much success. That was until they contacted Matty and asked for her support. They had found a supposedly abandoned lab and now they needed someone to go there and inspect it. The DEA was out of question for this job. They had lost touch with modern times of synthetic drugs. They were still hunting the cartels, burnt down poppy fields and called this a success in the battle against drugs in times in which drugs could easily be made of cleaning agents, backing powder and other household chemicals.

Matty confirmed their help. She didn’t even ask why it actually had to be the Phoenix doing this job. After the reinstalment as a government agency, the ‘think tank’ had returned to its original relationship with the other agencies. This meant: if the others failed the Phoenix took the job. For this, it didn’t make any sense for the Phoenix to go and inspect an abandoned lab. Matty should’ve listened more carefully after being asked for such a milk run. She didn’t. She ignored it. Deliberately. The Phoenix was still on probation, as to say. The CIA knew it. So, she closed her eyes and contrary to her better instincts sent a young and inexperienced team to El Paso. Mac’s job was to coordinate the mission from the war room. He was supposed to guide the team through the inspection by telling them what to look out for. As Director and her successor, it was his job to stay in the background, pull the strings, supervise the missions and spent the rare spare times in his very own lab. She had promised him that much. That had been his conditions as consequence to his handicap. He was not fit for the field work anymore. He could consider himself lucky if he could rescue his own ass if a mission went south. The chances that he could protect the rest of his team were pretty low. Matty understood and accepted it. She would have accepted everything to get Mac back on board.

When everyting was negotiated and settled between the CIA and the Phoenix, Mac returned from Texas and was forced to watch what happened to young and inexperienced agents with a great deal of energy when they were trapped. The henchmen of the drug dealer had been waiting for them. It was neither quick nor painless and within a millisecond Mac had made a decision ending up in El Paso.

It had been an unfair fight. When they arrived, any help was too late. All agents were executed cartel-style. They cut their tongues, probably in full consciousness. Then they cut off their hands and feet and then caused them a painful death by shooting them into the abdomen. The cut off limbs including their tongues were neatly placed next to their heads.

Desi threw up at the sight of the bodies and was glad to have an excuse for her sickness. Mac didn’t notice Desi’s reaction and that it was out of character for someone, who had seen far more gruesome pictures and would not even flinch at their sight. He couldn’t because the feeling of guilt overwhelmed him. He felt responsible. They had been his agents. It had been his responsibility to protect them and he had failed. He didn’t get much time to dwell on that, though. Out of nowhere a gun fire started. They ducked and covered. Desi fired back, but was busy not to get shot herself. Since there was a lab close by, Mac managed to improvise a smoke-ball and then they ran directly into another group of henchmen. A fist collided with Mac’s face and sent him to the ground. His knees collided hard with the concrete. His head was spinning from the impact of the blow. While Mac was down, Desi tried to fight one of the men, who tried to kick her into the belly. She ducked and slipped. Mac saw immediately that Desi would lose the fight. The man was about to stomp onto her while another one held Mac’s arm tight behind his back in a painful angle. Well, fighting was only physics, right? Mac writhed. His shoulder popped out of its socket. Mac used this moment of surprise and took the gun from the guy’s holster to shoot a tank of propane gas. Panic broke lose. The cartel members fled from the fire and the explosions. So did Desi, Mac and the rest of the TAC team. The building burnt down entirely. The flames swallowed everything, even the bodies of the five young agents. Family and friends wouldn’t get a chance to say a last goodbye to a beloved face. All there would be, was an empty casket and a star-spangled flag. Back in their exfil jet, Desi found herself a small corner where she sat down. She looked out, but avoided to look or even talk to Mac. Unconsciously she held a protective hand over her belly. Mac found another quite corner and sat down with his right arm dangling from his body like a spaghetti. It hurt like hell and Mac wished Jack was there. He could've set his arm. Desi refused to do it again. Well, suck it up, Mac thought and tried to ignore the pain. He couldn’t and he grew irritated.

When they arrived back at the Phoenix, Mac was beyond angry and after his visit in medical, he let it out when he yelled: “Fuck it Matty, we had an agreement!” He mourned. He mourned the unnecessary loss of five young people. And he started to hate himself. He hated himself, because he couldn’t save them. He was angry with himself. Angry, because of his own incompetence. Matty saw it. Somewhere in her mind there was a small doubt. It asked her whether Mac was really capable of being the Director of the Phoenix. The way he took the deaths of the five agents should’ve told her ‘no’, but she ignored this doubt. Nobody was perfect and Mac possessed so many other skills making him just the right person for that job. So, she tried to calm his anger: “Mac, please…,” but she got no chance as he cut her off, because he didn’t want her to placate him: “No, Matty, you know I can’t save anyone. Not with this,” Mac yelled. He motioned at his arm which was immobilised and secured to his waist by a sling after Phoenix medical had set his arm. He took it personal. She should stop him on his path. She didn’t. Instead, she looked at his bruised face and tried to explain herself. She wanted to explain how such horrible things could happen, while denying that she had made a deliberate error in judgement to save herself.

“Mac, intel was bad, nobody could’ve foreseen…,” but again he cut her off: “Intel was bad. Again. The CIA. Again. Damn it Matty, don’t you realise that they’re playing games with us? We are mere pawns in a game and we don’t even know the rules. I’m sick of it!” Mac was right. The CIA had asked a lot for help on this drug matter recently and usually intel turned out to be insufficient or even wrong. But she wouldn’t take the blame, although she damn well knew that she should, because she has been too naïve. They told her not to ask too many questions and thus, she didn’t.

And that angered her. She was way too experienced to make such an error in judgement. Yet again, here she stood justifying her actions in front of a thirty years old whom she needed more than he did her. She hated this lack of bargaining power and therefore she yelled back: “What do you want me to do?”

“Fix it and if you don’t, I will,” Mac said and turned around to leave. There was another person he had to pick a chicken with.

On his way to medical, he asked himself over and over again if he should’ve noticed something earlier. He thought that maybe he had missed the signs. Then again, he had to admit that besides the obvious signs well-known to everyone, he couldn’t even tell what these signs could’ve possibly been. So, he stepped into the cubicle in which Desi lay on a bed dozing and waited for the doctor’s verdict. She looked peaceful. They had yet to talk through the Codex mess, but maybe there was no need to. He wanted to make his peace and call it truce. Jack would probably disagree and scold him for relying on someone who didn’t hesitate a second before she fired a bullet into his shoulder. But she had seemed genuinely happy when he returned to the Phoenix. He also knew how much she suffered from her sense of duty, which often stood in her way. Always the good soldier. That was what she had always been, but it was now her past. She saw it on Mac’s face when she opened her eyes and saw him standing at the end of the bed in which she lay in.

“What week?” he asked her. She blushed. Of all people she had never thought it was Mac to be the first person she would tell.

“Ninth.”

“And how long do you know about it? Or, did you know it before we flew head over heels to El Paso?” She nodded. Now it was out and it was true. But the remorse she expected didn’t come. She felt happy. Did the second that the test showed two blue lines. That was all she needed.

“You’re aware that I won’t let you go back into the field, are you?” She was, but she didn’t care there were more important things to think about now.

“Am I fired?” she asked him though, because now she had lost her purpose for Phoenix and she was no longer only responsible for herself, but someone else, too. She had to make plans, secure a future for the little creature growing inside of her.

“That’s not on me, but I’ll see what I can do for you. It won’t be fair to punish an innocent not yet even born life,” Mac said and squeezed her hand. He was a saint, Desi thought. A fucking saint. After all she had said and done to him, he had all reasons to drop her like a hot potato, but there he was offering his support. And watching him leave caused the remorse she should’ve felt a long time ago, because it could’ve worked out. And a tiny part of her heart actually wished that these nine weeks were not only hers, but his, too.

He was tired. His arm hurt, so did his face and his head, but his day wasn’t over. There were still a few things to be taken care of. One of those things was the CIA. Matty wouldn’t step in and put the CIA’s secret games to a halt. She would play along. So, it was Mac who now stood in the war room staring at the screen where a middle-aged white man in blue suit stared back at him. His calm demeanour spoke of that sort of arrogance that really got to Mac and made him wish he could stay face to face with this man. There was one simple word for describing this type of men: asshole.

“Five of my agents died and I want to know why!” Mac demanded not the least impressed by the cold and big-headed behaviour of the man on the other side of the line.

“I cannot answer your questions. We gave you all information we had.”

“You're kidding, right? There was no need to ask for our support for a milk run like the intel you provided implied and for which the CIA and DEA are much more qualified,” Mac made sure the guy knew that he wasn’t buying his shit. His outburst was followed by silence which was only disturbed by a ping on his mobile signalling that he had gotten a message. He opened it. It contained a file.

“This is all I have,” the man said.

“That’s better be true. If I find out that this is just another move in your fucked-up game, you will wish to have never met me,” and Mac meant it.

He was finally on his way out when Riley texted him that she had found something about the “accident” aka attack against Carlos and Sheryl. He sighed. Maybe this one could wait until tomorrow? No, it couldn't. This here was about Jack's and his family's security. Thus, he turned around and went back to the labs where Riley had her very own tech team working for her. When he entered the lab, battered face and body language screaming for the permission to finally go him, she told him that they didn’t have anything on the failed mission yet. They didn’t make any prisoners and all they brought back was the memory five people to grief over. Five people who died and it gained them nothing.

She saw that he was beyond tired when he set a foot in her lab. She worried, a lot, but she didn’t dare to look into his eyes. She still felt ashamed because she hadn’t trusted him. The feeling weighed heavy on her. It was so bad that she even had tried to find a new apartment to get more distance between her and him. But that was impossible in L.A. At the end, they didn’t have many points of contact. They rarely met at his house. He’d go in early and stay long and she would stay even longer. He also spent some of his rare spare time at Jack’s ranch.

He, however, looked at her like nothing had happened. He tried to get past the Codex debacle, but Riley wasn’t making it easy for him. Her behaviour towards him oozed remorse which constantly reminded him of what had happened. It wasn’t very pleasant. He acted as normal around her as he could to let her know that everything was okay. But for Riley nothing was okay and she wasn’t sure if it could ever be. Anyway, they had to work together and thus, she swallowed down her feelings and gave him the pictures CCTV had made of the accident. She could identify the driver of the SUV. A formerly high-ranked but not renegade member of the Sinaloa cartel. He used to control the borders in El Paso and Tijuana, two of the main transfer sites. He must’ve been much in El Patron’s favour. Mac had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. How could Jack be so naïve? Former Sinaloa member. Rodriguez could try to leave behind that past. Maybe he really meant it, but the cartel wouldn’t forget. They never did. He looked at his watch. It was late. He sighed and decided to postpone the background check on Rodriguez to the next day. He was beat. He offered Riley a lift home, but she declined. He was well aware of her bad conscience and tried to sooth it as best as he could. Jack had put in a good word for her. He had felt the need to explain and excuse her behaviour. Mac didn’t get why this need. He had known what terrible conflict he forced his friends into when he went onto his solo mission and if he could forgive Desi for shooting at him, he could surely forgive Riley for having doubts. But somehow nobody believed him or rather nobody wanted his forgiveness. They sought absolution in his accusations and disappointment which he didn’t offer them. Nevertheless, he couldn’t persuade her so he drove through the late evening traffic of L.A. He focused on the streets trying to leave the day and the mission behind. He wouldn’t get any rest otherwise.

“Oh Angus, my dear boy scout,” he suddenly heard that creepy voice. It crawled up op on him from behind. Startled he turned around nearly causing an accident as he ripped the steering wheel around in that process while the voice kept on: “I do miss our fun time.” But there was nothing. The car was empty despite him. He pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine to get a better look. He turned around once more, but there was nobody. He heard the blood rush in his ears with adrenaline. His pulse raced a hundred miles per hour. He took a deep breath. He had goose bumps all over his body. He searched his car for some sort of hidden loudspeaker. But there was none.

“Hello?” he asked insecure. No response. Nothing. He got out of his car and looked around. There was nothing out of the ordinary. He shook his head and decided that he was seeing or rather hearing ghosts and got back into his car. He needed some decent sleep. Though arriving at home, he debated whether to go through the CIA file. It was silent and lonely and somehow his mind was still processing what had happened. His body ached. Finding sleep would be a tough battle. But it wouldn’t get any better if he threw himself into even more work. Therefore, he took off the sling which he had to ask Riley to help him to strap back on the next morning and went to take a shower. The hot water was balm to his battered body. He felt his muscles relax under the soft and warm ministrations of the spray. However, his mind kept on racing and he opened the cabinet in his bathroom when he stepped out of the shower. Three bottles of pills stared back at him: sleeping pills, tranquilisers and muscle relaxants. He huffed. Who had thought that he would end up such a wreck in the need of chemical aid to help with what was supposed to be an ordinary body function? He was about to grab the sleeping pills, but then opted out. He had to work the next day. He couldn’t spend half of it battling a hangover. Instead, he put on his sweatpants and a well-worn t-shirt which very much looked like it once belonged to Jack. Then he put on the cattle in the kitchen to make one of Edith’s herbal teas. A special mix that was supposed to help him sleep. Seven minutes. Not more. He watched the clock like a hawk and then went to bed with a mug of hot steaming tea and a book while thinking that he should’ve held his ground. He shouldn’t have given into Matty’s pleas. He should’ve started a new life far away from the Phoenix. But it’s been a tough battle. His battel. An inner battle in which the self he wanted to be fought the self he was. Wannabe Mac had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Find out what Mac did before he returned to the Phoenix.


	7. Never Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the college. Not much fun for someone like Mac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. This chapter was a little bit difficult to write. Please bear with me.

_Maybe five months earlier, maybe less, but time can be very blurry_

Finding a new job, turn the page and start a new chapter in his life proved to be much more difficult than he had feared. There was no way of getting a job in one of those fancy R&D institutes let alone tech-firms without a proper degree from an elite university. All he could offer was an honorary degree from a university that wasn’t renowned for its tech and engineer classes. So no, that degree didn’t count. Turned out that being a drop out qualified you as a teacher but not as serious scientist. Being a vet didn’t help much either. All you got was a pat onto the shoulder and a ‘thank you sir’. That was it.

At the end he had to bite the bullet and return to college. At the age of thirty. At least dropping out to save the country had been reason enough to persuade the committee to reinstate his scholarship and let him pick up his studies from where he had stopped. He had the feeling that maybe Frankie had something to do with it, too. She even got him a job in a lab that allowed him to be financially independent. He was grateful for her support. She was really into the idea of getting Mac a decent degree and then haul his ass into one of her labs. She was looking forward to work with him. Mac appreciated her encouragement and enthusiasm. He really did, but after he had had a job and a decent pay check for over one decade, being a student sucked. A lot.

He had lost the drive to study. It wasn’t because he had lost the thirst for knowledge. To the contrary. He still was eager to learn new things, but he wanted to apply his knowledge. Real life had become his teacher. He wanted to identify the boundaries of the existing knowledge and then think about a way to overcome them. Think outside of a box. To sum up his misery: he already knew all those things he was supposed to learn here and did know unconventional alternatives even. He knew how these things could help in practical life – how it did help you to survive. So yes, classes, tutorials and study groups were rather a nuisance than a pleasure.

But he tried not to let it on. He tried, really hard. But at the end he managed to piss off Prof. Dr. Dr. MacKenndrick. Late fifties. A renowned expert in applied physics. Unfortunately, Mac couldn’t even tell what he did to piss this man off. It didn’t occur to him that the ego of such a person could not bear to meet a young man who despite his age was a little bit more brilliant and a little bit more experienced in life. In consequence of all this, MacKenndrick drew the malicious conclusion that the young man in question did not take his studies seriously enough. To put it into words: from his point of view Mac was unworthy of the scholarship and the MIT. For this, MacKenndrick did all in his power to force Mac’s weaknesses to the outside. He wanted that everyone could see that Mac was just one in a billion. Nothing special.

He failed. No matter how often he called him to the front and ordered him to carry out calculation in front of the class, Mac never made a mistake. To top it all off, this young man had the audacity to take shortcuts in the calculations or even left out steps. The results were flawless, though. He could hardly know that Mac was used to carry out is calculations in front of an expecting audience and this usually under time pressure whereby he had perfected the arts of scribblings down equations and results on any surface available. Only the legibility of his handwriting left something to be desired. Mac still had to learn to use his left hand instead of his dominant right. Without his ability to lift his right arm, it was impossible to write on the board unless he switched to the left hand. The results were disastrous, but that was all he could offer. Taking notes with his right hand was no problem at all. Sometimes, though, when the desk was a little too high, he had to lift his right arm onto the desk with his left in order to take notes. MacKenndrick didn’t know any of it when he spat at Mac: “Who in the world is supposed to read this?”, which earned him an apology and a one-sided shoulder shrug. What was Mac supposed to reply to that? His handwriting was an imposition when he wrote with his left hand. The situation escalated when MacKenndrick accompanied the study groups one day.

They sat in the library and Mac was thankful that it was not one of those dark wooden antique ones, but a rather modern one with lots of huge windows and bright warm colours on the walls. The windows allowed those few sunbeams the winter provided to touch his skin and warm him up a little. He had forgotten about the cold and wet winter in Boston. He had forgotten how chilly he had felt when he spent his first winter at the MIT. This coldness crept into his bones and joints that didn’t like it any more than back then. A nice little gift as a consequence of his former profession. But he didn’t complain. He wasn’t there to have a good time, but to get his degree so he could find a decent job.

He took notes on his note pad. This meant, he sketched a plan for a high-performance biogas plant which was connected to a block-type thermal power station. In combination with a photovoltaic installation, they could produce enough energy to supply the whole ranch. Indeed, the investment costs would be massive, but they could save a lot if they did most of the engineering and construction themselves and according to Duke’s calculations the investment could pay off after seven latest ten years. Yes, Mac was biting his time during those study groups. He had already finished the assignments as it was nothing new for him. But he didn’t want to be unfair for which he contained himself during those discussions, discussions he would have participated eagerly during his first year at the MIT.

That he didn’t do it now was only another sign for how uncomfortable he felt. He didn’t belong here anymore. He was no longer the boy who won a ticket to an elite university with outstanding grades and extracurricular achievements. He was a veteran. A dumb soldier, who was taken back out of pity. He had saved a countless number of lives risking his own in that process, but that was the lot of those who lacked the academic predisposition and competence. Only few knew that once he had been one of them - before he enlisted. Even fewer knew that disarming IEDs needed more brains than strength. And even fewer knew what he had actually done in the sandbox. How should they know? They never asked and he never told. He hadn’t known what the life of an army soldier in Afghanistan looked like until it had become his reality. And he didn’t blame them. But a little more understanding and fewer prejudices would have been nice. He was lost deeply in his thoughts when MacKenndrick stepped behind him and looked over his shoulder. He didn’t like what he saw. He didn’t like that Mac was planning a renewable energy system while he was supposed to engage actively in the discussions of the study group.

“Mr. MacGyver, I suspect that you’re bored by your assignment?” MacKenndrick asked with an inappropriate smile on his face. Mac startled and then ducked a little. He had tried to blend into the background. He had hoped that he had become a little bit invisible, but now he felt like a thieve caught in the act. Spot lights all on him. He didn’t appreciate that feeling much. He looked up into the stern face of MacKenndrick. He was about to say something, but MacKenndrick went on: “So, please enlighten us. What’s your suggestion? What do you think is an appropriate way of solving our problem at hand?” He challenged Mac and motioned towards the board in the corner of the library. Once again, he was eager to demonstrate that ignorance and indifference weren’t good companions if you attended an elite university. But this time, MacKenndrick caught Mac on the wrong foot, because Mac was seriously not in the mood to be picked on. He was fed up and wanted to be left alone. Heck, it wasn’t Mac’s fault that life had taught him more lessons than an elite university could ever do. It wasn’t his fault that his mind wasn’t blank anymore but was filled to its brim with knowledge. It wasn’t his fault that different from his fellow students, he didn’t start from scratch. MacKenndrick kept staring at Mac when he didn’t make a move to get up and to the board. Mac didn’t want to, but then he thought better of it. He sighed and got up. He didn’t even try to hide his irritation when he grabbed the Sharpie with his left hand. Wrong move.

“Isn’t it interesting? I thought to have caught you sketching with your right hand in a considerably decent handwriting. So, I might think that we would all gain a little more if you used your dominant hand or is this some sort of challenge to make it a little more interesting for you?” After this was said, Mac came to the conclusion that this man was actually bullying him. He dropped the pen and went back to his seat. He grabbed his bag and locked eyes with MacKenndrick. He was done with this shit. He would spend not one more minute with these ignorant, unexperienced but overconfident idiots. People who had no idea what had happened, but obviously thought it was fun if you couldn’t use your arm. Hell, they didn’t even know that his shoulder was messed up. And why? Because they didn’t care. Nobody had ever asked why he had to write with his left hand. And for this, Mac decided that maybe it was time to enlighten them:

“I beg to excuse this inconvenience, but I got shot in the shoulder on one of our tours in the sandbox. Big bullet and bad angle. Torn tendons. To make it short, I can’t actually lift my arm high enough to write on a board,” Mac replied annoyed. He took his notepad and tossed it into the middle of the table after he ripped out the sketches for Frank. They weren’t playing fair with him, why should he play fair with them? Let them see that what they were doing here was nothing more than trifles for him. Let them see that they weren’t half as brilliant as they thought they were and that some fucked up soldier could easily outsmart them. His fellow students started gaping and Mac couldn’t hold back and said: “Have fun and give it back when you’re done. Whenever that might be.” He then left his gaping fellow students and a stunned professor without further explanation.

But this outburst didn’t make him feel any better. The opposite. He felt awful. Not only was he terribly embarrassed by this outburst of arrogance, but he also felt more out of place than before. For this, he hid in the lab for the rest of the week. He felt uncomfortably out of place and not even Frankie could smooth over this feeling. He wasn’t one of them. Not anymore. He really tried, but it was so fucking difficult. And then a very painful realisation hit him when he remembered why he had dropped out and enlisted. It hadn’t been some sort of narcissism. Rather, he had felt caught in an ivory tower and awfully detached from the real world. Somehow, it hadn’t made sense to him to study all those theories and formulas while there were people out there who needed real and handy solutions. It never helped anybody to throw your theoretical knowledge at them. Applying it was the key. What was the point of acquiring theoretical knowledge when the outside world was crying out for practical solutions? And then his grandpa had called and told him about his army friend who had died. He had told him old army stories and somehow that sounded for him like the right place to be. At the end, he had to accept that maybe he never fit in – not before and not now. His chest felt tight at that realisation. It hurt, because it made him realise that he still didn’t belong.

And then one evening he sat alone in his one-room apartment and stared at the walls which started to close him in. The feeling of loneliness was suffocating. There were too many thoughts in his mind. There were too many facts that spoke volumes of how unfit he was for that academic world. And then he remembered what his father used to say: “ _If it doesn’t work out, you have to try harder. If it doesn’t work out then, then you haven’t tried hard enough._ ” In the end, it was all down to his failure. He wouldn’t sit in the middle of this dilemma, if he had approached the Codex-debacle differently, more accurately. At the end he had failed to make his team trust him enough to follow him. His busted shoulder and that Russ had kicked him out of the Phoenix, it was all down to his own shortcomings. It was all on him. Nobody else to blame. No matter how much the truth hurt, it was there – undeniable. And then, he started to spiral again. It was a text from Jack that kept him from spiralling too far. Jack complained that while Mac was sitting lazily on his rear, Jack had to help a cow calve. A second set of hands would’ve been much appreciated. Mac knew that this was Jack’s humour. It was Jack’s way to show him that Mac belonged to the ranch. With his text, Jack totally ignored the fact that if a cow calved, Mac wasn’t of much help because of his crippled right arm.

Without much of a thought Mac texted Jack back asking whether he would be at the ranch over the weekend. He didn’t intent to text this. His fingers typed the message on autopilot. And Jack simply texted back: ‘when shall I pick you up?’. Because he might be the boss of the ranch and for this it might be his job to travel around the country to meet customers and negotiate with suppliers, but when his kid needed him, he would drop everything. And he sensed that his kid needed him when he read the text. It conveyed a sadness. Jack couldn’t tell from what he drew that conclusion. He had a dozen of texts from Mac with a similar wording. But this time it was different. Having witnessed Mac spiral helplessly had shocked him to the core and he was adamant to not let it happen a second time. That meant he had to have a close eye on his kid. But Mac was still tight lipped about what went on inside of him. For this, Jack paid more attention on what Mac didn’t say.

Jack’s Mom used to say that Mac probably kept his heart for himself to protect it from being broken. There was so much truth in her words that it hurt Jack. Mac had been abandoned and disappointed way too often by people who were close to him. He had lost too many beloved. It had left him shattered to pieces every time it had happened, but he had never let it on and never did. He did what he always did: march on. This was why Jack was still a little concerned about the new route Mac had taken for life. He would have appreciated it, if Mac had given it a little more time. Maybe sought professional help. But he also understood his kid’s need to leave the past behind and move on. Thus, he let him go back to the MIT and welcomed him back at the ranch whenever Mac felt the need to come home. Jack had never thought that Mac could have a hard time at the MIT after he had seen the light gleaming in his eyes when he worked with Frankie. It broke his heart when he learnt that his brilliant kid had to tough his way through college like he had toughed his way through school, the Army, DXS and then the Phoenix. So, when he saw Mac that night shuffling towards him at the parking area of the airport with his shoulder all so slightly hunched and a dark expression on his face, he did the only right thing: he took his boy into a bear-hug and assured him with whispered words that everything would be alright. And Mac melted into this hug feeling a little less alone and his heart became a little lighter. Maybe with Jack’s help he could make it through these two years. But then Matty popped up in his life again and proved to be resistant to any act of rejection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Matty doesn't want to accept that Mac wants to leave the Phoenix behind. She might manipulate him a little bit. At the end, it's Mac who sufferes the consequences, whether he wants to or not.


	8. Where is the line?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matty doesn't accept a 'no'. Mac's back at resucing the innocent and not very happy about it.

_Mac really had never thought that being back at college would suck like that_

If Mac thought it couldn’t get any worse, he was proved wrong one day when Matty burst into his physics class which of course was held by Prof. MacKenndrick. Since Matty the Hun never asked politely but was used to demand and command, she simply barged into the classroom and ordered: ”C’mon Blondie, there’s a bomb in the Le Méridian, which needs to be diffused. We have forty-five minutes.”

At first, Mac blushed with embarrassment when all his fellow students looked his way. It turned into annoyance quickly, though. He looked at Matty and shook his head. He had no intention to jump and run on Matty’s command. He had left that part of his life behind. But Matty didn’t seem to understand. Scratch that. She didn’t care. Thus, he replied: ”Matty, nice to meet you, too. But as you might see, I’m busy right now,” while his sense of duty kicked in.

It was about to undermine his steadfastness towards Matty when it told him that he had to jump up immediately and rush to the rescue. As counter reaction, he planted his feet solidly on the ground. A defence mechanism so that he could resist the urge to follow his sense of duty. That is not my life anymore, not my problems, not my responsibility, Mac thought. He repeated this sentence in his head like a mantra. It didn’t take long and it was accompanied by Jack’s voice in his head. These were rather his words than Mac’s, but Mac fought hard to make them his as well.

“Cut it Mac, we don’t have time for lengthy discussions. The bomb is literally ticking,” Matty huffed. This was followed by MacKenndrick’s interjection that he would appreciate it if Matty now left his class, because he was sure Mac would find the time to talk to her later. MacKenndrick’s irritation was hidden under a thick layer of faked politeness.

When Mac thought that the worst was over, Matty deadpanned MacKenndrick: “Oh are you the renowned bomb expert int this room then? Then of course I would kindly ask you to come with me, because there are a few thousand lives at stake.” She didn’t even try to hide the irony. Of course, such a fulltime academic wouldn’t be of much help here, she thought derogatorily. Mac knew he had to do something to defuse the increasingly tense situation. He was painfully aware that there was probably only one thing he could do to make Matty leave the classroom. He and Matty locked eyes and her eyes did, what her mouth couldn’t: ask him kindly whether he could help her out, because there was no one else she could ask.

She knew what she did. She was getting in between him and the new life he wished to build for himself. But she didn’t regret it, because from her point of view there was only one place Mac belonged to and that was the Phoenix. She got that he had needed time. She understood that he had to get some distance between himself and them after everything that had happened. But she also found that it was time for him to snap out of his funk. But Mac didn’t want to. This was serious. He wanted to turn his back on them and everything they had been through together. At the hearing, Matty had ignored the sting when Mac had said he wasn’t the right person for the position for the Director of the Phoenix since he was no part of it anymore. For her, he was the Phoenix. The Phoenix without him was nothing but a sad attempt to be extraordinary. Matty could tell that she had lost her influence on Mac.

It was a silent, but strong voice that echoed through the classroom that made Mac rethink his decision: “Mac, please.” It was Riley’s voice. She stepped out of the shadows she hid, because she didn’t want Mac to feel cornered by their sudden appearance. She also noticed that Matty’s way of asking for a favour wouldn’t get them far. Mac was very likely still hurt. They’ve all done a lot of mistakes and it was wrong to expect from him forgiveness. And while they all sought this forgiveness, he didn’t even know what for. The last thing that Mac had wanted to achieve was the wave of self-reproach to crash down on his team mates for a decision he had deliberately made without seeking their advice let alone consent. Riley’s voice just conveyed how insecure she still felt around him and that pained Mac more than her doubts regarding his loyalty in the Codex debacle. For it showed him how deep the rip that he had caused between him and his former team was. Forgotten was the hope that at some point they could return to being friends not to mention a family. And Mac started to ask himself whether his obstinate attitude was justified.

Riley watched him thinking and went on: “The hotel guests are trapped. We did contact other bomb experts, but they all have no clue what we’re dealing with. You’re our last chance.” She wanted Mac to understand that they didn’t disturb his new life, because they thought it was their right to do so. They did, because it was their last option. Damn it, we have to respect his decision, Riley thought. But it was hard. Mac simply was one of a kind. And Riley’s pleading voice made it hard for Mac to withstand. There was still a spell in her voice which still could get all over him. And that, even though there’s been so much time between then and the last time when they’ve been talking like true friends to one another.

At the end, the battle that raged in his mind was won by his sense of duty which kept telling him that he was obliged to use his skills to help others. “ _Angus, a great gift comes with an even greater responsibility,”_ he heard his father’s voice in his head. And true. If he was the one possessing the means to rescues other people, wouldn’t he also be responsible for their deaths if he refused to provide them help? He could line up in the same queue like the psychopaths or terrorists that planted the bomb at the hotel. It was a moral dilemma and he realised that leaving the Phoenix wouldn’t be as easy as he wanted it to be. Declaring defeat while hoping that this was a one-time only thing, he packed his bag, mumbled a ‘fuck it’ and went to Riley.

“Mr. MacGyver, if you leave now, I’ll cross your name from the participants’ list for this class,” MacKenndrick warned him and Mac hesitated. He was convinced that this guy would do just that: kick him out of the classes and let him repeat it next year. But what was more important? The thousands of innocent lives or his desire to get his degree and find a normal job? Not a real question, Mac thought and Matty snapped at MacKenndrick: “You really believe that attending your classes is more important than the lives of thousands of people?” Just what Mac had thought only seconds ago.

They sat in a black van on their way to the hotel when Riley told Mac what they got. Desi was there, too. To say it was awkward to meet her again in such close proximity wouldn’t even begin to describe how it felt. Desi avoided looking at him. He was the first person who had forced her to question herself. He was the first person who had made her doubt herself and it was a strange and threatening feeling. It shook her self-confidence when she thought that maybe she had done a mistake when she shot at him. Maybe, Jack was right. But that was something they had to sort out later. Riley told them about the bomb in the parking garage under the hotel building. There were several experts, but nobody knew what the explosive was made of. They all suspected it to be some liquid explosive since it was stored in big yellow barrels. One expert warned them to be careful, because the slightest shock might set it off just like nitro-glycerine. Mac asked why the hotel hasn’t been evacuated. The exits and windows were fitted with motion sensors, which were connected to a mechanism that at the slightest movement would send a signal down to the garage which would then set off the bomb.

“See and there must be the flaw. The hotel is huge. Whoever did this, could hardly wire all those windows to a motion sensor, at least not without being noticed. We only need to find a window that was left out,” Mac concluded when they arrived at the hotel. The question was how to find this one window. There was no exact method. However, Mac suspected that several windows must’ve been left out. It was a matter of probability.

“Desi, go and start with the last floor. Check the windows and then work your way down,” Mac asked her. She looked bewildered at him and said: “Do you know how many windows only one floor has? We don’t have enough time or resources to check each window.”

“And that’s exactly why I doubt that all windows are wired. Spot check them. I’m sure you’ll find a window. Probably more,” Mac said and somehow it did make sense, Desi concluded. To fit all windows with a motion sensor was simply too much work that couldn’t remain unnoticed. So, she went for her search while Mac and Riley went to the parking garage. The first level was stuffed with yellow barrels of explosives. Riley asked him whether he knew what it was. He shook his head. First of all, he couldn’t see through the barrels. He couldn’t even tell whether it was a liquid inside. But he suspected it. Then he pointed at the shackles which closed the lid and hen told the team over comms that they indeed shouldn’t move or even open the barrels. They were under pressure. Second of all, he had never seen such a detonator mechanism before. It wasn’t as sophisticated as Mason’s mechanism and it was no two-component mechanism either. There was no need to mix two liquids together to make it go kaboom. Mac then took a closer look at the detonator. It was placed in the middle of four barrels and was connected to each with a wire. Each barrel itself was wired to a group of further barrels.

“Mac, I don’t want to hurry you, but we have only fifteen minutes left and according to the fire department, we cannot evacuate the whole building in that time,” Riley interrupted hesitantly Mac’s track of thoughts. Apparently, Desi had found a window which was not fitted with a motion sensor. He looked once more at the detonator and concluded that fifteen minutes were definitely not enough, because they did have a problem: he could cut the connection of the detonator only to one barrel which was connected to four more ones. That, however, would set off the remaining three which themselves were connected to four further barrels. Fifteen barrels were probably enough to bring the building down.

“So, you need to build something similar to what you did when the Ghost planted the bomb under your house,” Riley concluded after Mac let her in on his concerns.

She was right and then again, she wasn’t, because: “We don’t have enough time for that,” he said and took his Swiss Army Knife. He opened the box which hid the detonator mechanism. The circuits were sloppy which was a good thing, because with enough heat he could fuse the contacts to the barrels. But there was still one hook left. Whoever had built that thing had seen the flaw and built in a trap which was supposed to keep Mac from defusing the bomb. If he fused the last contact, one of the barrels would be opened. Since the barrel obviously was under pressure and he didn’t know what was in it, defusing the bomb could lead to uncomfortable consequences.

“Matty, I need something for soldering like since yesterday,” he said over comms with the plan in his head. He then turned around to face Riley who hadn’t left his side ever since. A shadow of relief washed over her face when she realised that Mac had found a way to defuse the bomb.

“So, how can I help?” she offered. She didn’t want Mac to do it all on his own. It didn’t seem fair. She felt bad for having him dragged into this mess. He tried hard to build a new life. She had witnessed bits and pieces of that process and thus she knew that it had been hard and went in hand with several blows. She didn’t want this to become another one. She didn’t want to be an obstacle on his road to a peaceful life far away from harm and pain. Because at the end, while they stood around and watched, it was Mac who took the blows, both metaphorically and literally. For Mac, though, this was only consequential. He was the one making the decisions. It was only fair when he was the one taking the brunt of it.

And that was how he saw it this time when he told Riley: “I want you to leave. There’s still a risk that this bomb might go off and I don’t want you here if that happens.” If he made a mistake, he didn’t want anyone else to pay for it. His concern for her wellbeing touched her deeply, because she didn’t deserve it. He had all right not to care anymore. They hadn’t. Even before Codex and the reinstalment of the Phoenix they hadn’t cared much. They had drifted apart, gotten absorbed in their own small universes not thinking about how the others might be doing. They hadn’t learnt their lessons. After Russ had kicked Mac out of the agency, they had drifted apart again. It was like the Phoenix was the only element that kept them close to each other. Apart from that, there was nothing that connected them. It was what made them care. Riley was realistic enough to acknowledge that if it hadn’t been for Jack, Mac probably would never have gotten back onto his feet. They all had retreated an licked their wounds on their own. That had been wrong and thus, she stayed. She had to. This way she could show him that she trusted him. Something she hadn’t been capable of when he went to save them from Codex’ plans. Maybe it was some sort of self-flagellation, but maybe it was a bad conscience, because Mac even after having left the Phoenix, was about to do their job. It wasn’t right to let him bear the consequences alone all over again. No, she wouldn’t let that happen again. So, she stayed but went to the far corner of the room when he told her to before he went to work on the IED.

He had burnt three of the contacts. Now, there was only one left. The one with uncertain consequences. He took a breath and tried to get a bit more distance between himself and the barrel which was soon to be opened like Pandora’s box. He turned sideways to offer as little surface as possible for whatever this barrel had stored for him. He burnt the contact and turned his face away from the barrel which indeed stood under pressure and upon opening the liquid shot out of it. A generous spray of it hit Mac’s side that wasn’t turned away. It was some sort of acid. When it got in contact with Mac, he cursed himself for not wearing his father’s leather jacket, which would have protected him from acid burns. Upon contact with his skin the acid left an awfully burning sensation. It felt like someone had set his skin on fire. The pain spread over his whole skin even those parts that hadn’t been exposed. The pain was nearly overwhelming and Mac clenched his jaw to keep himself from screaming. Riley immediately noticed what was going on. She rushed to Mac to help him strip off his soaked jacket and shirt. She hissed when she saw the acid burns on his chest, his arm, neck, his side and even back. Without letting her panic on, she ordered Matty to have a medic and some good pain killers ready for Mac. The beads of sweat, his laboured breaths and his pale complexion told his story of agony which he tried hard to keep for himself.

The burns warranted him a trip to the next best hospital where a medical team already waited for him to come in. He was fully conscious and he wished that he wasn’t. His blood pressure was a little funky and the paramedics on the spot had refused him the good stuff. Riley didn’t leave his side when he was wheeled into a treatment cubicle where a doctor started to look at the burns. He hissed in sympathy at the sight of the wounds and apologised: “I’m sorry Mr. MacGyver, but I have to check the damage done.” With these words said he started probing and prodding. Mac believed that the doctor tried to be careful but still he was on the verge of pushing him away. While the doctor checked his skin, a nurse hooked him up on an IV and administered some stronger pain killers that at least took the edge of the pain. She didn’t hold back a complaint about his crap veins, though. Inthat moment, Riley wished they were at the Phoenix where the doctors and nurses knew about their peculiarities and coped with them without further argument. But Mac wouldn’t say a word. He wouldn’t complain and neither let on how uncomfortable the treatment was. It never ceased to amaze Riley how Mac was still capable of enduring pain stoically like this. Not one single sound of discomfort escaped his lips. Riley gently rubbed Mac’s uninjured upper-arm in reassurance, though. He wasn’t alone and somehow Mac indeed appreciated her attempts to distract him.

After the doctor had checked his skin and ran some pH tests, he carefully applied a cooling ointment. Riley took Mac’s hand in case he needed something to help him ride out the pain. But it wasn’t bad. It was the first time Mac felt relieved. The tension on his skin left and the pain had become manageable. They verdict wasn’t as horrible as expected. In fact, he got off lightly. The damage was limited to his right side and the acid hadn’t been as strong as feared. It wouldn’t even leave scars. No lasting damage. It would only hurt like a bitch for a few days. At the end the explosive had been a sloppy creation just like the IED itself. But Riley didn’t want to feel relieved. She eyed the angry red marks and her stomach twisted, because this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not again. Mac wasn’t supposed to bear the consequences again. Heck, he wasn’t even part of the Phoenix anymore. And Mac saw it that way, too. Riley watched how the nurse bandaged the wounds while the doctor gave Mac instruction on how to take care of them for the next couple of days: cleaning, ointment, rebandaging.

“If there’s nobody who can help you with the burns on your back, you have to come back in for treatment,” the doctor said. Mac nodded, but assured him that there was someone who could help him. Riley saw straight through that lie. Mac lived alone and Mac had no intention on calling Jack and telling him what had happened. He would try to keep this little secret for himself as long as possible. Otherwise, he risked another fight between him and Jack and Mac wasn’t keen on that.

The second the doctor was done and the nurse had bandaged his wounds, he hopped off the examination table and was on his way out wearing a jacket Riley had borrowed from a member of the TAC team. Mac’s cloths were officially ruined. He was angry. Close to furious. Riley could tell, because of the tension in his neck. What was new was that Mac didn’t hide his anger as he would’ve done only one year earlier. On his way out, he tried to ignore Matty who threw him concerned looks. Just like Riley she felt bad for what had happened. Mac, however, was pissed and didn’t want to hear any apology. He wanted to leave this life behind but there was this lurking probability that he wouldn’t be able to do just that. At least not, if Matty kept on bursting into his life demanding his attention and expertise.

“Mac, wait, please,” Matty called after him when he walked past her. She wanted to apologise, because she shouldn’t have been doing this to him. After all, he had good enough reasons to turn his back on the Phoenix. She had seen it, had seen him: the hurt, the struggle. He had been wrecked and was still working on getting a grip. But he also was the only one she trusted, the only one with that capabilities. Personally, she would let him have it his way and let him walk away from them. Somewhere deep down in her heart she suspected that it was better for him. But she now was also Oversight of a government agency which was supposed to solve the problems all others failed to solve and that meant that she needed the most competent and capable people in her pool for human resources and Mac was one of them – the one. She had tried to run her agency without him once. It had been a disaster. For this, she once more called for his attention: “Mac, please wait.” He didn’t wait, but looked at her. She looked in his eyes. She should let him go. She shook her head. The agency was her first priority which made getting Mac back on board her priority, too. Mac knew that and for this he just wanted to go home and pretend that this day had never happened. A tiny voice whispered into his ear to face the facts. He would never leave the Phoenix behind. It was probably the only place where he belonged to. Though, he wasn’t ready to admit that and admit failure of his future plans.

“C’mon Mac,” she called after him again when he didn’t give her a chance to explain herself. He didn’t react, but kept going. He was nearly out the door. She ran after him, took his hand, the one that wasn’t bandaged to protect the acid burns from infections, and stopped him. She saw his eyes – these dark and cold eyes. Mac freed his hand from her grip to make his point clear.

“I hope you know that this was an one-time only event,” he hissed and was about to leave, but Matty held onto his arm this time. She had a strong grip.

“Mac, I know you’re angry and I know that you want to leave this life behind, but this is impossible. You know that. This is your father’s heritage. You can’t just turn around and pretend that it doesn’t exist,” Matty said in a calm and steady voice while knowing well that mentioning his father hit a sore spot. Well, she was ready to push every button available to get what she wanted. Unfortunately, it didn’t make Mac reconsider. It made him even angrier. Where did she get the audacity to bring his father into play after all that had happened? This man, who had to give his life because he – Mac – failed to rescue him and ran away like a coward.

“Matty, I’m done with this job. And by the way, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not even fit for this job anymore,” Mac snapped. He wouldn’t risk other people’s life only so Matty could get her misguided will.

“Seriously, Mac? Did you ever take a closer look at me?” she countered not accepting his arm as an excuse to leave the Phoenix. It wasn’t even a good excuse and for this she went on: “Losing the full function of your arm might be an obstacle, but it’s not enough of a reason to waste your talent. Mac you and I, we do have a responsibility.” And in fact, if one didn’t know about Mac’s shoulder, you wouldn’t even see it. His movements were as swift and fluent as before and it had cost Mac a lot of sweat and pain to get there. But he also knew that there were enough things he couldn’t do anymore. Swimming, for example. And he also had fulfilled a fair share of his responsibilities to some others, whoever those others were. And he had paid a price for it. The responsibility Matty referred to had taken his family away from him: his mother, his father and his aunt. That had to be enough. He didn’t want to lose what was left. He didn’t want to lose his surrogate family. If he had learnt one thing from the Codex disaster, then it was that the job could only be done if you were unassailable and without reason to think twice whether it was really worth it to throw your life away. So, he replied: “No Matty, I’ve fulfilled my dues. You’ve gotten everything. I’m done with this.” And then her left her standing in the middle of the corridor like she was some random woman and not Oversight of the Phoenix.

A seed started to grow, though. Or rather, the plant was about to recuperate from the past events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: His father's nemesis is back in Mac's life and Mac's past is messing with his plans for a new future.


	9. Line & Sinker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac's past turns up and has some bad news for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you'll enjoy this story. Sorry for my lack of communication. I'm not much of a talker rather a listener. Please bear with me!

_Mac simply can't do anything the easy way, not even being a student at college is easy..._

True to his words MacKenndrick threw Mac out of his classes. Mac would have to repeat it the next year which threatened to delay his graduation. It was frustrating and unfair. And if this wasn’t already bad enough, he had to learn that he might want to leave the Phoenix and that life behind, the Phoenix and that life, however, wouldn’t leave him. This life followed him over the campus. It scared him that he didn’t notice that he was watched by the enemy’s eyes. He let his guard down and tried to blend into the masses of students and teachers. So, he didn’t see the man that followed him. He didn’t notice that someone entered his apartment. Instead, he assumed that he had left his notes in the lab. He had been far away from guessing that someone had entered his apartment, gone through his things and taken his notes. He was too busy living a normal life that he didn’t pay much attention to what went on around him. Granted, it didn’t occur to him that he might have pissed off enough people that now sought redemption. And granted, after Codex he didn’t waste a single thought on what else his parents might have possibly left for him to tidy up. Later, Mac would curse himself for his recklessness while anticipating another lecture from Jack on his lack of self-preservation and how this was responsible for every single grey hair of his.

So, when one day his past turned up on campus, he was more than just a little startled.

He sat in his favourite café on campus working on his assignment. His focus, however, was elsewhere. The assignment wasn’t much of a challenge and he probably should’ve finished it hours ago. But instead of concentrating on the equations his gaze followed the first snowflakes of the year. He had always been fascinated by the crystalline structure. A snowflake was highly resistant, especially when it merged with other snowflakes to form a solid surface. But then again, a snowflake was awfully vulnerable and melted at the mere contact with warm skin. Snow had other advantageous characteristics as well. It covered the dirty grey ground of the campus making it appear all neat and clean. A snow-covered environment was a peaceful environment. The snow hid all those unpleasantries and swallowed the sound of misery. What was left was silent and pure. Mac enjoyed it, because it put his mind at ease.

Instead of working on his assignment, he let his mind rest. He didn’t realise that someone was watching him. He didn’t even notice when this someone walked up to him. But then this someone sat down in the seat opposite him and called for his attention:

“Hey Mini-Mac, long time no see.” Mac’s blood froze at the sound of the all too familiar voice that didn’t predict anything good. He turned his head to face the man the dark baritone belonged to. He played it cool pretending he wasn’t the least surprised to meet this man on campus. He was content that he did quite a poor job. He hadn’t been able to suppress the flinch that went through his body when he heard that voice. Within seconds, Mac had collected his bearings, though. His pulse that had threatened to power away was back to calm and steady.

He looked up and at the man. Their gazes met. Mac didn’t look away. The fighter in him, the agent and spy volunteered their services. He was taught to be a predator not the prey. It had been hard, painful lessons and Mac wished he could’ve skipped the one or other, but it were these lessons that let Mac to keep calm in the eye of the immanent threat. With practiced eyes Mac registered the longer hair, but neatly trimmed beard. And even if the man was less bulky than years ago, he hadn’t lost his hectoring charisma. He was still very dangerous that much Mac could tell. They looked at each other. Mac didn’t intend to offer a word of acknowledgment to this man.

“I heard what happened,” the man went on, “Poor Jim. I wish I could’ve been there for you and attended the funeral but you might now that I had to take care of some business. It’s really busy these days,” the man started bantering away as if they were good friends that indeed hadn’t seen each other for a while. Mac clenched his jaw. It took him every ounce of self-control not to jump off his seat and at the man’s throat while this man pretended as if Mac’s father and he had been best friends for years, although the contrary was the case. He had betrayed his father. He had made use of a moment of inconsiderate curiosity. He had switched sides only because of the money. His father had been hunting this man ever since. He had never gotten a chance to accomplish this mission. Mac sought the blame for this man still walking around free and he found it. If he only had found a solution and rescued his father.

“You’re not much of a talker, too. Just like your father,” the guy went on and Mac swore to himself that if he only one more time mentioned his father, he would kill him on the spot no matter the consequences. Then Walsh dropped the notes which Mac had suspected to be in the lab on the table. Mac’s stomach churned with a bad premonition. But he wouldn’t let on that this was scary. As unimpressed as he could pretend to be he took the notes and thumbed through them to see whether they were still complete.

“What do you want, Walsh?” Mac eventually asked to cut the conversation short and go on with his life.

“To offer you a job,” Jonah Walsh replied as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Mac asked himself whether he should’ve seen something like this coming. After all, there had been a number of bad guys who had tried to coerce him onto their side. After his Codex stunt with his loyalties being put in question it was obvious that the dark side reached out to him. But no matter how great the bitterness about Russ kicking him out and the accusation from back then was, it could never be enough for him to betray his and his family’s values. 

“No, thank you,” Mac for this replied and got up. He had to get out. It was that moment in which he realised that Walsh didn’t come alone. There were at least three men in the café that reached into the inside of their jackets when Mac moved. Mac was content that they hid their guns underneath. He stood no chance if the situation escalated. He threw a glare at Walsh who shrugged his shoulders and went on: “C’mon Mac, I heard about what happened and believe me, I understand you. I know what it's like to work your ass off for an agency, risk your life and then get your ass-kicked for it.”

“They didn’t kick me out. I left on my own terms,” Mac replied. It was a lie. They kicked him out after Codex, but they wanted him back since the Phoenix was reinstalled as a government agency. He had declined all offers until now and there had been plenty.

That was the reason for Matty to force herself back into his life. She intruded it, because she wanted him back. It wasn’t only because of his skills and of how valuable they were for the Phoenix. She also had to make sure that his skills weren’t used against them, too. They would stand no chance in such a case. And although Mac had proven his loyalty and straightforwardness in case of Codex, the aftermath gave reason to worry that maybe at some point Mac would run riot. Mac had proven to be unpredictable and uncontrollable. Two characteristics she had put up with, because James hadn’t been any different. Two characteristic that wouldn’t let her sleep at night as long as Mac was out of her reach. Because Codex had proven something else, something that had never occurred to her before: Mac was fragile. Not physically, but his mind was. She had seen what gruesome and horrible things a broken mind was capable of. The best man could turn into an unparalleled monster. She had to do all in her power to keep Mac’s mind from breaking. That required her to have close tabs on her favourite blondie. For which not only Walsh’ men observed Mac, but hers did too. Thus, she fumed when out of nowhere Walsh turned up offering Mac a job. She was beyond herself when Walsh didn’t take the cue and left, but stayed like he was some old friend who had failed to stay in touch and now wanted to catch up on what he had missed. She had to step in. She had to keep Mac on the right track. She grabbed her phone ready to kick some academic assess. Nobody got to mess with her favourite blondie. Nobody would kick him out of his class without feeling the consequences.

“Anyway, if you need anything or you change your mind, give me a call,” Walsh said and handed Mac a napkin with a mobile number scribbled on it. “Just let me remind you that this battle is not over and it’s a battle you can’t win and wouldn’t it be a shame if something happens to Jack or his family?” Walsh closed the one-sided conversation and left followed by his three goons. Mac slumped back into the chair. His skin prickled with adrenaline and worry about Walsh’ threat. Mac’s past was threatening the Daltons which meant Mac was putting the Daltons in harms way. Again. But then again, he had no idea what he could do about it. Stopping Walsh single handily was a no go. He wouldn’t repeat Codex. With a frustrated sigh he stuffed his books and notes into his bag and left the café.

He didn’t notice that MacKenndrick had been watching him and Walsh closely. That interaction had convinced him that MacGyver needed to leave the campus. There was something dangerous surrounding him. It was obvious that MacGyver had seen more evil than ordinary men. And he knew how to deal with it. MacKenndrick just knew that Mac hid something. The impression of dubiousness was only reinforced when a woman called his secretary's office and demanded to speak with him. Immediately. MacKenndrick didn’t like the tone of her voice and didn’t intent to take her calls when his mobile signalled him that he got a new message. He opened it. It was a picture. It showed him in the arms of a young blond woman. With a bit of ill will someone might even see amorous implications or the hint of a kiss. He swallowed thickly. His secretary came into his office delivering Matty’s message: _If you don’t want your love life as headline in the regional newspapers, you might want to call me back_.

MacKenndrick was angry about Matty’s attempt of blackmailing him. She had identified a weak spot. And while he was way too familiar with the rules of these power games, he hated to be on the receiving end of it. However, he understood that he had to call back this Webber woman and he did. Afterwards, he would be confident that this had been the most uncomfortable call in his life. The woman on the other end of the line ordered him outright to let MacGyver attend his classes: “For God’s sake, he skipped it once for the sake of thousands of innocent lives. MacGyver deserves a medal for that and not being kicked out of your classes. And in short, while you Prof. Dr. Dr. MacKenndrick hide behind your academic titles like a pathetic wimp for which your are unduly celebrated as someone who was called to higher things, Angus MacGyver has already achieved many true great things and risked his health and life countless times. It is an impudence that someone like you presumes to judge and discipline MacGyver’s behaviour. So, if I was you, I would think carefully about whether it was wise to hold onto such an idiotic decision. Did you understand what I just said?” The woman didn’t give him the tiniest chance to justify what he had done. She wouldn’t have given him a chance to breath if she had been in the same room with him. Satisfied with herself, she went back to her real job. That Walsh had turned up on Mac’s threshold was a lucky strike for her. He had fallen into her trap and now it was a matter of slowly pulling it tighter and tighter until he could no longer move.

Mac was oblivious to any of it when Matty called him in the middle of the night and asked him, or rather ordered him, to be ready to go within the next five minutes. He hadn't talked to anyone about his troubles at college. Well no one besides Jack. The weekend before, Mac grudgingly had told Jack about Matty, MacKenndrick and the hotel. He had to, because he needed an explanation for his bandaged hand and arm. Jack had called Matty indignantly and barked at her that she better straightens this again if she didn’t want to end on the wrong side of Jack’s wrath. She did, but on her terms and those had never been popular for being gentle.

For this, ignorant to the fact that she knew about Walsh and got him back into his physics class he snapped at her when she stood at his door: “Damn it Matty, this has to stop! I’m not one of your agents anymore!”

“We don’t have time for this, so cut it and get changed,” she deadpanned him, who stood there still clad in sweatpants and t-shirt. Mac did not budge an inch planting his feet solidly on the ground.

“Oh c’mon Mac. We don’t have time for such a nonsense. We have a drug dealer ring to take care off, a drug dealer ring with connections to Walsh who’s still busy establishing himself as drug and war lord and by the way has a close eye on you as you might have realised this afternoon,” Matty replied and Mac was taken aback. He looked at her not believing what she had just implied to him. She picked up on his bewilderment and said smugly: “Oh seriously Blondie, did you really think we let you go just like that? Because of the security clearance you had and because of your knowledge and skills we have to make sure that you’re not playing for the wrong team.” In this second Mac’s world shattered a tiny bit more. Not only the fact that she still doubted his loyalty hurt, but also watching his dream of a normal life evaporated in front of his eyes. Reality got a cold grip on his heart squeezing it tightly. It took away his breath. And Matty saw the devastated look in Mac’s eyes and it broke her heart, but still she said: “Sorry to break the news to you, but you’ll never get the ordinary life you’re looking for. You might not be a part of the Phoenix anymore, but the Phoenix is still part of you and now get changed, we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

Mac gave in and declared defeat upon his destiny. He followed Matty to a black van which brought them to the nearest air strip from where they flew to Nicaragua. He really started to hate that place – the pantry of the cartels - because nothing ever good seemed to happen there. Primary products for the cartel, but also cannon fodder for their proxy wars, cold-blooded mercenary trained in the guerrilla wars were available here. A handful of dollars and the feeling of power was enough to let them risk their life.

According to Matty, Walsh never gave up his plans on KX 7. CIA intel implied that even without James MacGyver’s support, Walsh had been able to create a drug that did not kill people instantly. Now he had to build up a distribution network starting in Nicaragua. Mac listened carefully and asked himself why he had thought that after Codex everything would settle down. Of course, his father would have a still open agenda which he would pass on to Mac out of his grave stating: this has to be done. And of course, Mac would do as his father told, because it had been his father’s life long mission to nail Walsh. A mission he couldn’t accomplish, because Mac had failed him. No, he still didn’t overcome the feeling of guilt which has settled deep down in his stomach. And Matty, although not knowing for sure, rested her hopes on this guilt – Mac’s inner turmoil – to persuade him from coming back to the Phoenix and follow her once again. She knew what Mac was raised to and she knew that Mac knew it, too. James MacGyver had made sure that his son knew his place in the world and the responsibilities that were passed on to him. It was so easy to press the right buttons. She was aware of how dangerous it was to play with Mac’s emotional instability, but she had to take this risk, because she lacked of any better option. Mac was enough of a realist to know that it was better to burn one life instead of thousands of others and if it was his life that burnt, then it was at least for a reason.

They arrived in the middle of a night in the middle of nowhere at an airstrip that was planted into the middle of a jungle. The night was filled with monkeys screaming, crickets fiddling and toads rabbiting. Usually, Mac would enjoy mother nature’s choir, but not if he was about to get into Walsh way and cross his plans. It was pitch darks. Thick rainy clouds prevented the stars shedding light. He could barely see the hands in front of his eyes. The smell of wet humus approached him. They were stranded somewhere in nowhere and it was unsettling. It had never been before, but Mac was out of training and he was reluctant to be here in first place. It wasn’t like before when he had jumped from mission to mission to one place to another.

Matty and Riley remained at the jet to watch the mission from the background and give support as needed while Desi, Mac and a TAC team drove to a small village hidden under the thickest of the jungle. When they both sat in the Jeep they tried hard not to let the awkwardness of the situation get to them, but it didn’t help much. They didn’t talk with each other. She found the atmosphere oppressive and knew it could jeopardise the operation, while he just pretended nothing was wrong and went on. No hard feelings, no grudge.

“I’m sorry,” Desi then blurted out of nothing when the pressure became too much for her. She needed to get it out into the world. She confront herself with the fact that she had made an error in judgement when she fired at Mac. And she had to admit to it openly. For this, she said: “I shouldn’t have shot at you,” and meant it. She should have disobeyed just once. But Mac didn’t blame her and he especially didn’t want a big talk with lots of apologies. He simply wanted to move on and thus he replied: “I didn’t leave you much of a choice.” And he meant it, too.

They were bordering the village. Already miles before they had switched off the headlights to not arise unnecessary attention. They switched on the bugging device just in time. They arrived in the middle of the negotiations. They were talking about how to get the drugs over to the United States. Transporting them through Mexico appeared too risky since El Patrón would mind someone interfering with his business of classic cocaine, heroin and hash. The synthetic drugs were a thorn in the cartel’s side and they controlled the borders. If they found a load of synthetic drugs, it certainly wouldn’t be much fun. Payola was needed. Lots of it, because even among the cartel members you could find the on or other unhappy sould that sought for an opportunity to earn something extra.

“I don’t care about the ‘how’. Just make sure that the load arrives in El Paso,” a deep baritone said and Desi thought, ‘jackpot’. This time they had a real chance to catch Walsh. Mac wished they would succeed, because he still nurtured the hope to start a normal life or a life that was as normal as it could be given his background. If he managed to nail Walsh now, there were no more open bills. He could finally move on. This hope was destroyed when they were attacked from behind by guerrillas. Desi could knock out the first few attackers. Her TAC team was well prepared and organised. However, the guerrillas were strategically in a better position. With a retooled Humvee they crashed into their formation. They jumped aside and sought cover in the jungle. Now it was man to man fights. Everybody was on his own. Mac was out of practice, but did as well as he could. He was currently fighting two mercenaries when Desi spotted a third one approaching from behind. She called out for Mac to be careful. It didn’t work. Instead of turning his head back it shot into Desi’s direction. The mercenary used this moment and hit Mac with butt of the rifle hard against his head. Desi wanted to run to his rescue but was pinned by tow further mercenaries. She had to watch helplessly as they dragged Mac’s limp form further into the jungle. The darkness swallowed him entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Mac's kidnapped by Walsh. Will he be rescued? If yes, what will be the consequences? And what will Jack say when he finds out?


	10. This is how it goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac's captured in a shady shed with guerillas and Walsh. Of course it'll hurt. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and sorry for posting only one chapter this week. Please bear with me.

He woke up to a pounding headache and a painful strain in his shoulders. He tried to move and jerked back into consciousness when his feet lost grip to the ground and his weight pulled on his shoulders. Great, he thought. He was literally left hanging. He opened his eyes and saw that he was kept in an old shed. It was dimly lit by a flickering lightbulb. His stomach sank at the realisation that he wasn’t alone. There were three sets of eyes watching him with violent interest. Guerrillas. His hands were tied above his head. The rope was secured to an eyebolt under the ceiling. His feet only brushed the ground, but had enough grip to relieve a little of the strain on his shoulders. For his right shoulder, though, any help was too late. It was already dislocated. It turned out that a shoulder that wasn’t kept in place by its tendons was prone to easily pop out of its socket when the arm was turned into the wrong angle or too much strain was put on it. Mac assessed his situation and concluded that it was not good at all. His chances of getting out on his own were slim. Then his eyes landed on his captors. One of them came closer. He eyed Mac carefully. Then he circled him. Mac felt like he was at an auction. Only this time he wasn’t the bidder. He was the subject of bidding. Then the guy was back facing him.

“Good, you’re awake,” the small but scrawny Latino greeted him before punching him with brass knuckles hard into the face. Mac’s world went spinning. His neck made a cracking sound when his head flew to the side. Mac felt the skin over his cheekbone burst. Warm blood trickled down his cheek and chin before it fell in small droplets to the ground. This treatment didn’t help with his headache which exploded tenfold. He was still resilient enough to not scream in pain, though. This, at closer look, seemed to piss off the little Latino who took another swing at Mac. Again, his left side. His lip split. He snorted and spit the blood onto the guy’s shoes. His head pounded in the rhythm of his pulse. But he wouldn’t give in. He never had. He never would. And with this, his training kicked in.

“You know, if you want answers, you shouldn’t aim for the head too often,” Mac said. Being sassy never helped. The contrary. It made it even worse, but he also couldn’t give the impression that he was impressed or even intimidated by this treatment which he wasn’t. Not at all. It was scary how used he still was to being tortured. The Latino looked at him obviously thinking about what Mac had said. This was a good thing. It gave Mac some time to think about a way to escape. Well, the way wasn’t the problem. He only needed to get his hands free. That one proved to be the main obstacle in his plan. There were two more men and all eyes were on him. No opportunity for acting secretly. That meant he had to be quick. With his hands tied to the ceiling, that was going to be difficult. His brain worked in overspeed reluctant to realise that without help, Mac wouldn’t be able to escape. Then his attention was forced back to the shed he was kept in. A very familiar voice started talking.

“I don’t want any answers, but in fact, that beautiful mind of yours could be quite useful.” It was Walsh’ voice that droned through the shed, while the man slowly walked out of the shadow in which he had hid in. Slowly he walked towards the light. Then his face was revealed to Mac. One quick grin and then he slammed his fist with brutal force into Mac’s side. This time Mac couldn’t hold back the yelp when his left kidney started to scream in agony. He didn’t have time to catch a breath when Walsh’ fist slammed into the same spot again leaving Mac grasping for air and control. So much for being used to being tortured, he thought.

“Consider the job offer being off the table,” Walsh hissed before he slammed his fist a third time in Mac’s side eliciting a scream from his lips, because he was sure that his organ was now about to jump out of his body. Or explode. Whatever, it hurt like hell.

“Did you really think I would work for someone whom my father distrusted to the core?” Mac replied in between breaths which came hard now. His side was throbbing in the same rhythm in which his head was pounding. He felt the dire urge to curl into himself, but his snarky way earned him a wooden plank that was slammed into his side setting his ribs on fire. Unfortunately, the pain wasn’t enough to distract Mac from his still throbbing lower back.

“If Jim knew what I am about to do with you, he would beg you to follow me,” Walsh hissed and the plank was once more slammed against Mac’s ribs. He felt how they gave in. His whole left side now felt like it was about to burst open spilling its contents that lay hidden beneath skin and bones. The throbbing pain increased. Mac wanted to jump out of his body and leave it as carapace behind to find himself a new shelter without pain. He wouldn’t find it, though. He couldn’t leave his mouth shut. His inner Jack had taken over the situation.

“Yeah, you’re overestimating my father’s sense of care there,” Mac huffed as consequence. His will was far from being broken and Walsh saw it and slammed his fist into Mac’s stomach. He couldn’t tell how glad he was that this time it wasn’t his left side. This was before the plank was once more slammed against his ribs. Another scream that carried the pain into the wide room instead of keeping it in the limited space of his own body. Black spots danced in front of Mac’s eyes. The pain made him dizzy. He swallowed dryly to battle the sickness that built in his stomach as a result of one punch to many. That was why he didn’t realise that the flickering of the lightbulb had changed before it turned dark in the shed. Then there were loud screams and bullets buzzed through the air. Mac could only make out the muzzle flash. Nothing else. One bullet cut through the rope which tied him to the ceiling. He landed with a loud thud on the floor which was followed by a painful grunt. He was becoming a wimp, he cursed himself. His body ached all over.

But worst of all, how was he supposed to explain that one to Jack? He couldn’t hide from him and his family until it was all healed. Jack would yell at him for being so fucking dumb and jump in harm’s way on Matty’s command. Again. He would then surely strangle Mac and kill him only to bring him back again and yell someone more at him. To cut it short, no Jack wouldn’t be excited about finding out about this one. Mac’s heart sank. He really didn’t want to give reasons for another fight. He didn’t want to give Jack another reason to worry. How was he supposed to repair it this time? He really had to think good and wisely about a good apology. One that Jack would believe and that would sooth his anger. This could be an impossible task. At the end, Mac had to admit that he had no idea how to explain this to Jack without making him angry. He sighed with defeat. He dreaded that confrontation. His track of thoughts stopped when the pain in his left side threatened to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes wishing for the blackness to take over and let him rest from the pain. It wouldn’t come.

“Mac, are you okay?” he heard Desi’s voice next to his ear before her small and slender fingers gently touched his face. He pried his eyes open and looked into her concerned face. Should’ve shown that one instead of shooting me on Russ' command, Mac thought bitterly about the Codex debacle. He was in pain and his mood was sour. It pissed him off that she kept him from the well-deserved unconsciousness. But then he thought better of it. He shouldn’t let it out on anyone. Not even on Desi. Thus, he composed himself and tried to ignore the pain before he said: “I’m fine, but where’s Walsh?”

He struggled into a sitting position. Each movement sent a wave of pain through him that made him feel nauseas. Breathing was a tough battle. It hurt. But what hurt most was the fact that Walsh escaped. He had used the chaos to slip out of the shed. Mac’s first instinct was to jump to his feet and follow that guy, but the pain blocked the signals his brain sent to his legs. Desi watched how Mac struggled to get off the floor and into an upright position. She hovered by his side not sure whether she should help him or not. Not sure whether her touch would cause him more pain. Mac’s movements suddenly stopped. He felt the blood rush out of his head. Suddenly he felt light-headed. His legs gave way. He slumped down to the floor again. The blackness finally approached him. He closed his eyes willing it to come faster. Desi could tell that Mac was about to slip into consciousness. She gently slapped his face to keep him awake: “Hey, Mac. No sleeping. Stay with me.” She carefully coaxed him away from the desired darkness. He wanted to ignore it, but she wouldn’t let it go.

“Hey, no, no, no. Stay with me,” Desi exhorted him when Mac’s eyes stayed stubbornly closed. She felt for his pulse. A little fast, but steady. She cupped his cheeks with her hands pressed firmly against the skin. She had to keep him awake. They had to leave before a few more guerrillas turned up. Realising that he stood no chance against Desi in this one, Mac opened his eyes and tried to get back onto his feet. Desi held onto his left arm to steady him. But then pain went through Mac’s body like lightening. His legs turned to jell-o, buckled and he landed back on the floor dragging Desi with him. He breathed heavily. The darkness approached him again and once more Desi had to keep him from losing consciousness. She shook him carefully and told him to stay awake: “Hey, none of this anymore. Mac, we need to leave.” She tried again to get him up. This time, however, she was prepared to do the whole job. She wrapped his left arm around her shoulder and then wrapped her left arm tightly around his waist. Then she pushed herself off the ground and managed to pull him back onto his own feet. He grunted with pain. The agony he was in hurt her, too. But she had to push this feeling aside. They had to make a beeline for the exit.

The way back to the jet was painful, long and exhaustive. Desi kept on apologising for not having had his back, for not catching Walsh, for not having been there any earlier. With these and similar words of which Mac hardly took any notice since he was too busy not to give in on the pain he was in, she guided him to the couch in the jet. She gently helped him lie down. Each movement was agony and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. In fact, he was really out of practice. He was sure that usually he wouldn’t have been bothered by a few bruises. His shoulder was killing him and having it loosely hanging from its socket irritated him. So, he asked Desi whether she could do him a favour and pop it back in. He even asked ‘please’, because he really needed some relief. Less pain was still less pain even if there were still enough sore spots that hurt like hell. Desi wasn’t happy about his wish, but she replied ‘yes’ anyway. Who could resist those blue puppy eyes if they asked so nicely? He felt bad for asking her, though. It felt like he made use of her bad conscience, but he was extremely glad when she said that she would help him. Matty didn’t like that idea much, but she had never had to endure the torment of a dislocated shoulder and therefore could hardly judge the situation. Desi carefully helped Mac up from the couch and then carefully helped him to lower himself on the carpet of the jet. She took his limp arm and readied herself. Riley nearly threw up at the sound of the dislocated shoulder popping back in and Mac didn’t care that he screamed the jet down in pain. He definitely was out of practice. Afterwards he felt much better, though.

Riley assisted Desi to settle Mac back on the couch. His legs refused to cooperate. They felt wobbly and didn’t have the strength to carry his weight on their own. He once more wished for the darkness that appeared on the edge of his vision to engulf him. Matty wouldn’t have any of it. She couldn’t assess whether Mac had received one blow too many to the head. She didn’t want to risk him not waking up again. Grudgingly Mac surrendered to this fate. Then the jet took off and Riley tended to clean up the cuts in his face. She took a cotton pad and poured a generous amount of disinfectant on it. The smell stung in her nose, but she didn’t mind. She then gently dabbed the wounds. Mac winced at the contact of the pad with the cut on his cheek.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Riley whispered to him so only he could hear her words. Mac definitely could’ve done without the stinging of the disinfectant she used, but he also appreciated her efforts. After she had cleaned the wounds, she took the Seri strips and closed the cut on his cheek and lip. Her hands worked effectively. They hadn’t forgotten the moves of a post op patch up job. When Riley was finished with his cuts, Mac was relieved. They were still throbbing from the disinfectant, but it was okay. His back and ribs were still screaming with pain, but there wasn’t much they could do about it. Mac was tired and decided to lie back and close his eyes for a bit. The quietness of the jet made him even more aware of the pains and aches of his body. His lower back was worst of all. He could tell that this didn’t mean good news. Matty refused to give him strong pain meds until they hadn’t assessed the damage done. That was reasonable. Mac hated her for it anyway. He tried to blend the pain out and get comfortable on the couch. It was difficult. The couch was too small and not at all comfy. He couldn’t imagen that there had been times in which he had spent hours on this couch bleeding and in pain. He wished he was at home, wherever that was. He looked forward to a decent nap in his own bed, but Matty’s grim face told him that this probably wasn’t going to happen. The pain in his back told him a similar story. Well, from his perspective, there was nothing to argue against some decent pain killers. With this thought on his mind, he drifted off. But Desi made sure that he wouldn’t drift off too far away and gently woke him every twenty minutes.

At some point, he was woken by the pain in his body. It was overwhelming. There was no way for him to get comfortable not to mention any sleep. He sat up hissing with each movement and looked at Matty: “So, what now?” he asked her. He didn’t care, but he needed a distraction from the pain. Matty looked at him. The blue and purple bruise that formed on his cheek stood out against his pale complexion. The plan royally failed and at least she lacked of any alternatives at the moment. Matty was thinking wisely about her words. She had hoped to catch Walsh and lock him up this time. Now, the hunt had started anew. Walsh was a criminal master mind. It could take months if not years until they got another lead on him. She was convinced that Mac had all it took to catch Walsh, but she wasn’t sure whether it was a wise idea to get him involved. Ever since Codex, there was something about Mac that somehow scared her and it had surfaced more and more. It had only been a hint at the beginning. Mac had always been reckless. Jack had always complained about his lack of self-preservation. But then Jack had left, Codex came and the recklessness turned into something else. It seemed like he took on death testing how long he could walk on a destructive tightrope until it tore and he would fall into the abyss. And although she always said that this job wasn’t made for people clinging to life, it also wasn’t made for those who had an unfulfilled death wish. And yes, Mac’s attempt to take his life to escape Russ and Codex had left a bad aftertaste.

For Mac, his behaviour didn’t appear that self-destructive. He had no intention to die if he could prevent it. He wasn’t taking risks he couldn’t control. But when things got tough and he had to decide to go or let go, he would always choose ‘go’. He couldn’t imagine to endure the pain of being abandoned again, so he would rather choose to leave then to be left behind. He was aware that these were his so-called abandonment issues talking. He knew it was the lecture the Swiss Alps had taught him, but he lacked the means to handle it differently.

Matty never came to discover this depth as it was securely covered by Mac’s ‘I’m fine’ and ‘everything will work out’ attitude. And it did. For MacGyver everything always worked out. For this, she eyed him carefully, before she binned her doubts and said: “Walsh will hide until the waves are smoothed down. So, we won’t get a new lead until he starts to move again.” He nodded, but tried not to let it get to him. This wasn’t his business anymore, however, his sense of responsibility was awakening. It stretched its long tentacles taking in more and more room. It didn’t occupy the whole space though. His wish to start over stayed stubbornly put. It didn’t budge. With disappointment Matty realised that Mac wouldn’t offer his help, but she also saw a change in his attitude. She knew that he wouldn’t deny a responsibility – his responsibility.

“Mac, tell me, what are your conditions? I mean not only because of Walsh. The whole Phoenix would benefit from your return – from you as Director,” she once more offered him. She was ready to negotiate. She would offer him everything. But Mac wasn’t ready yet and his sense of responsibility not yet had taken over all the space in his mind and heart. Thus, he pointed at his face and replied: “Matty, look into my face and tell me that this is what I want for the next thirty years of my life.”

“You’ll get a better TAC team and as Director you aren’t even supposed to go into the field as often anyway. You’ll be plotting and supervising the missions. You’ll have the strategic responsibility not the operative anymore,” Matty said taking a chance she saw, but Mac remained hard. For now. He caught himself thinking seriously about her offer, but not for long. The pain in his lower back made itself known. He clenched his jaw to keep it inside. Matty realised his pain anyway and made sure to have medics on standby when they touched down. Again. She didn’t intent to get Mac hurt. She would keep it from happening if it was in her hands. But it wasn’t. And at the end, wasn’t it the fact that Mac took the pain and went on that made him a perfect member of the Phoenix? Besides his smartness that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Mac touches down back in Boston. Jack finds out about the interlude with Walsh and Mac makes a decision. Mac and Jack fight a lot


	11. Too bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac faces the aftermath of his impromptu with Walsh and struggles with himself. There's what he wants and what he's being taught. These two sides couldn't been any more contrasting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you for reading and leaving kudos and comments to my story. As I found out that I'm not very happy with a few chapters in this story, I'm currently editing and rewriting those drafts. For this, please excuse that I cannot post the chapters in my usual two a week rhythm.

_Still in the past which definitely sucks if you look from Mac's POV_

When they hit U.S. soil again, Mac was immediately intercepted by EMTs. Desi gave them a quick briefing on possible injuries. Mac didn’t pick up a fight when she guided him inside the ambulance and helped him to settle down on the gurney. Laying down felt good. It was a relief to the soreness that had him wrapped up tightly. He closed his eyes, because his eyelids felt so awfully heavy. He was tired and actually beyond exhaustion. It was strange that he hadn’t felt it before. Someone was talking to him. He hummed in response. His mind was incapable of forming more words. Then the sounds faded into the distance. He was grateful that nobody kept the darkness away from him which embraced him with her painlessness. When he opened his eyes again, he stared at the ceiling of a trauma bay in the ER. He was decently numb which implied that he was already on the good stuff. He didn’t mind. His eyes fell on Matty who stood in the corner of the treatment room. She had personally escorted him to the next ER. Again. He sighed. This couldn’t be his life, couldn’t it? Getting broken, being patched up again, only to get broken on the next mission again. If he was honest to himself, he was still broken from the last mission as official member of the Phoenix. Nobody had managed to glue all the pieces back together. Jack would probably say that it was so, because he didn’t let anyone glue him back together and that it wasn’t a one-man job this time. Maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn’t. However, Mac wasn’t sure whether it was a wise idea to return to this job in his current state. It would only deepen those cracks which couldn’t be patched up again.

Matty’s death glare let him endure the doctor’s probing and prodding without much complaint. Well, he couldn’t hold back a yelp when the cold gel for the ultrasound was blotched on his abdomen, side and back. The examination itself wasn’t very pleasant as well and Mac didn’t hold back sounds of discomfort. The doctor shook her head, but didn’t say a thing. She ordered more tests. MRI, CAT Scan, x-rays. Mac was in for the whole rodeo. At the end of the marathon, the doctors in the ER weren’t too happy about his injuries and Mac’s suspicion regarding his lower back was confirmed. Heavily bruised kidneys accompanied by mild internal bleedings. Additional three broken ribs and a mild concussion earned Mac a hospital stay of at least three days. Mac groaned and was about to talk his way out of the facility, but Matty wouldn’t have any of it.

She ordered the doctor: “Make it five to be on the safer side. This one has a track record of complications.” Mac looked at her like a deer in the head lights and intervened: ”That’s not possible. I cannot miss out on my courses for so many days unless I want to repeat them next year!” Mac was most definitely not staying longer in a hospital than absolutely necessary. He didn’t plan on staying at all.

But Matty remained hard: “Unless you want me to call Jack and tell him to take care of you, you better comply with what the doctor says and stay put.” She knew that Mac wouldn’t want Jack to worry or to tell him about this in first place. They’ve been fighting a lot lately. Most of all about Mac’s idea of returning to the Phoenix. Jack was deadly against it and accused Mac for finally having lost his mind. But they’ve also been fighting about Mac’s lack of coping mechanism although Mac had no idea where Jack got that from. And to top it all, Jack had made it a habit to throw Mac’s past at him: his father’s death, his mother’s death and finding out about who she really was, his aunt’s death and generally everything that Jack had labelled as Mac’s childhood trauma. At one point, Jack also raised the suspicion that during Mac’s childhood something really bad must’ve happened which was the underlying issue of everything. According to Jack, Mac wasn’t dealing with whatever properly while he failed to tell Mac how dealing with whatever properly looked like from his point of view. Mac had told him what happened to his father. Jack knew the story about Mac’s Mom. Jack had watched Gwen getting shot and Jack knew a lot of Mac’s childhood stories. Although not everyone and especially not those buried deep down in the rubble of Mac’s memories so it may never come to live again. In Mac’s point of view, he was quite open with his so-called ‘childhood trauma’. He stubbornly refused to call it like that, because trauma was reserved to distress of much bigger dimensions.

He didn’t realise that whatever he told Jack lacked of the inner perspective. Jack failed to point out that this was what had raised his concerns. Mac didn’t let Jack in on how his past affected him – what it made with him. He didn’t tell him how he felt about it. But Jack wanted to know exactly this. He wanted to see his kid’s emotions. Mac didn’t get that. He probably ignored it. But even if Mac wanted to tell Jack about this inwardly turned portray of himself, he couldn’t. He had learnt to switch off his emotions. He had unlearnt to switch them on again.

“ _Angus, emotions get you nowhere_ ,” Mac recalled his father’s voice. Mac had learnt that this was true. He never got a chance to experience the healing effects of free emotions. Jack always tried to animate him to share his feelings. Mac never did. His father’s words would always pop up in his head and stop him.

So, at the end Mac accepted his fate of being stuck in a hospital. Since Matty has had the decency to touch down in Boston, he asked Riley to bring him some cloths and things from his apartment. Riley was more than eager to do whatever she could to make Mac feel better. A growing feeling of unfairness settled in her stomach. Yes, she wanted to work together with Mac again. But it didn’t seem right to force him when he refused Matty’s pleas over and over again. And now, he was injured. Again. It was worse than the last time. Riley knew that she should put it to a halt, but she had no idea how. It was a battle of wills she didn’t dare to get in between. When she entered Mac’s apartment she was shocked about the disarray. It carried a warning sign. It reminded her of how Mac’s house looked like when the family fell apart after the Phoenix was dismantled. It screamed at her that Mac wasn’t doing well. Maybe she should call Jack even against Mac’s will. But this was yet another battle of wills she wasn’t keen on getting in between. Cowardly she picked a few cloths, stuffed them in a bag and brought them to Mac, who was settled in one of the hospital’s single rooms. They were usually reserved for those being considered important. Well, Mac was important and Matty wanted to make sure he received the rest and care he needed. She had made sure that the doctors didn’t hesitate to administer to him any treatment necessary. Costs didn’t matter. What did, was Mac’s well-being, Riley thought. And that once again was only a minor concern.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Riley asked him hesitantly after she placed his bag on a chair in the corner of the friendly and cosy looking room. Mac shook his head.

“No, thanks. I’m good,” he replied. Riley nodded, but was reluctant to leave. Somehow it didn’t seem fair if she got to leave while Mac had to stay. But Matty was waiting. She wanted to return to L.A. Riley’s eyes once more took in Mac’s appearance. He was pale. The bruise on his cheek looked dangerous. He shifted stiffly in the bed. His right arm was immobilised by a sling. The IV he was hooked up to told her that he was battling more than just a few bruises. At least the bedding looked comfier than the hospital standard. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to do something. She was obliged to do something. Her mind didn’t even come up with appropriate words of comfort. She gave up the battle and was about to leave. But then she turned around: “Call Jack. He should know what has happened. You shouldn’t be alone,” she said. She was worried. She would stay herself, but Matty was becoming impatient.

“I’ll do,” Mac simply replied and meant it. Riley didn’t believe him. She doubted that Mac suddenly had changed that much and had started to assign himself a certain value that allowed others to actually take care of him. To sum it up briefly, the situation made her angry. Thus, when she met Matty in the hospital corridor she couldn’t but had to snap: “You think this is okay? We happily return to L.A. and Mac has to stay here? Alone?” But Matty didn’t listen to the message that Riley actually wanted to convey and simply deadpanned her: “Mac’s a grown-up. If he doesn’t want to be alone, he can call Jack.”

And Mac’s thumb hovered over the call button of his mobile, but he put the mobile away again without calling Jack. He convinced himself that he did so in order to save Jack another reason to worry. He knew he did it, because he was afraid of yet another fight between them. He tried to get some sleep, but his mind wouldn’t shut off. Every now and then he would pick up his mobile only to put it back again. He wanted Jack to be there. He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t feel too well neither. The pain in his lower back was intensifying again. He could have used Jack’s comfort, because miraculously he always knew what to do to make Mac feel better while Mac had no clue at all. But he shouldn’t need it – shouldn’t need Jack to comfort him. He should be able to get along without it. Heck, he could get along without it. But did he want to? He shoved that desire aside. He should stop being a nuisance. He curled himself together while the pain in his back got worse. Mac told himself to stop being a sissy and tough it out. But even Angus MacGyver had his limits. Kidney aches were a limit. He tried to breathe through the pain, but there was a pressure accompanying the pain in his back that he feared he was about to explode. He couldn’t hold back the sounds of pain and discomfort slipping from his lips. For this, the nurse on night shift found him whimpering with pain and ashen pale. She immediately called the doctor on duty.

Once again Mac was tormented by the cold gel for the ultrasound. The pressure of the device being used on his battered body was only increasing his pain. The news was not good. The bleeding had gotten worse. Emergency surgery. He was whisked out of the room and prepared for surgery. He didn’t know what happened. It happened too fast for him to register what was going on. The pain clouded his mind. With practiced moves he was attached to a heart monitor and then wheeled into the OR. He felt his heart speed up. How was it possible? In the one second he sat in a café on campus and now he had to undergo emergency surgery because of a bleeding kidney. It felt surreal. He felt how his abdomen, side and lower back were disinfected with iodine. He tried to shift away from the cold sensation, but there was no getting away. Then he felt something warm flow up his arm. In a split second the warmth spread through his whole body and he started to feel so awfully heavy. The pain subsided. He took a breath of relief. He heard people talking to him, but he didn’t process their words. He stared at the brightly lit ceiling of the OR. He was scared shitless. He was helpless. He was out of control. He hated the feeling of being at someone’s mercy. He cursed himself for not having summoned up the courage to call Jack. He blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be at the ranch. He blinked again. The tears trailed from the corner of his eyes down his cheeks. He felt a warm hand on his cheek. He wished it was Jack’s. Then an oxygen mask appeared in his line of vision. His heart beat faster. He turned his head away. He didn’t want to lose consciousness. His movement were too slow, though. Two hands kept his head in place with the thumbs gently rubbing his cheeks. He wanted to fight those hands. He couldn’t. Didn’t want to fight them anymore. Someone said something, but he couldn’t make out what it was. Then the oxygen mask was placed over his nose and mouth. He breathed in. His vision became blurry. He blinked to clear it.

When he opened his eyes again, he woke up in the PACU to a trademark postop hangover. He was dizzy. His head was stuffed with cotton. His mind was viscous. He felt sick to the stomach and he was cold. PONV hit him hard this time. He rolled to his side. The movement sent a stinging pain through his side. Something pulled against his skin. He ignored it. Suddenly, he was heaving violently. Out of nowhere an emesis bowl appeared under his chin. The stinging and pulling sensation on his side increased. He couldn’t stop heaving, though. He felt miserable and he wished Jack was there. Jack would know what to do. Jack would comfort him. His mind was so awfully clouded with the lingering effects of the anaesthesia. It scared him. He was scared. And then there was this stinging pull in his side which he couldn’t explain. He couldn’t tell what had happened. He was confused, but Jack would know. His eyes scanned the room. Jack wasn’t there. Why wasn’t Jack there? He had no answer to that. Jack was always there when Mac was sick. Something must’ve happened if he wasn’t now. He had to find Jack. He had to make sure that he was alright. Mac tried to get up. He had to leave and find Jack. Mac could hardly move. His limbs were uncoordinated and felt so heavy. He noticed an IV in the back of his hand. He didn’t know why it was there and was about to pull it out, but someone he didn’t know took his hand and kept him from ripping it out. He tried to put up a fight. His attempt was weak. The hand's grip tightened around Mac’s wrist, but not painfully. Mac couldn’t free himself out of its hold and finally, he complied with these hands that gently pushed him back to bed. He didn’t know why. When he lay down again, his eyelids slid shut. Scared he might aggravate his injuries, the nurse on night shift stayed with him until he recovered from the effects of anaesthesia and was transferred to a regular room.

The next time Mac woke up, he still had a headache, felt sick and cold, but the confusion was gone. He remembered what had happened. A doctor told him anyway. She also informed him that he would have to stay a little longer. The surgery went well. The prolonged stay was only a precaution. They wanted to have an eye on the surgical wound. He understood. He felt alone. He didn’t call Jack, though. He wanted to. He wanted it so badly, but he couldn’t. His father’s words and the fear of causing an argument of epic dimensions outweighed his longing for a hug. And after five days had passed, Mac released himself AMA. The doctor threatened him that she would have to inform Matty. Mac didn’t care. What he cared about was getting out of the depressing atmosphere of that hospital. He had to distract his mind so his wish for Jack taking care of him would subside.

Mac didn’t need long to realise that maybe releasing himself hadn’t been the smartest idea. The penny dropped when he sat in his chemistry class while the surgical wound ached and his ribs screamed with pain. He could hardly sit still. He shifted in his seat to get away from the pain. It was to no avail. Reluctant to give up so early, he dragged his body to his mechanical engineering class. Every movement set his ribs on fire. Breathing with three broken ribs was a punishment. He gritted his teeth and tried to power through. At the end of that class, the professor took him aside and told Mac to go home and rest before he would collapse during his classes. Mac turned beet red of embarrassment and then cursed himself. He mumbled an apology. Then he concluded that it was better to be reasonable and returned to his apartment. His body was thankful when he carefully sunk onto the mattress of his own bed. He tried to avoid every movement and limited himself to what was absolutely necessary. For this, he decided to skip the one or other meal. He even avoided changing his clothes if it wasn't really necessary from a sanitary persepctvie. With his ribs broken and his right arm immobilised changing cloths was a battle he just couldn’t win. He was in the need of help. He didn’t call Jack, though. He was determined to make it alone. He was a coward. Because in fact, the only reason why he didn’t call was his fear of yet another argument. He was miserable enough to not care about his father’s words. But he cared about what Jack would have to say and he anticipated that it wouldn’t be anything good. If it was for him, Jack would never find out about this one. His wishes seldomly became true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Jack finds out. Jack's not happy. Jack calls in reinforcement and Mac has got to learn what family means. Will he ever understand that lesson? Or will this turn out to be his new personal biology class?


	12. Devil on my shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds out about Mac's injury and he's not happy about it. They have an argument and Jack doesn't go gentle revealing to Mac that he had some real issues. But Mac's playing deaf and doesn't want to hear any of it. Jack's helpless and calls in reinforcement aka Edith Dalton.

_Still in the past when the cracks become deeper and Jack's at a loss_

A few days later, Jack found out anyway. He saw that it was bad when Mac opened the door to his apartment. His face was still covered in bruises and his arm was once again immobilised by a sling. Jack had a hard time keeping his anger at bay. He was not only angry with Matty for dragging his kid into the Phoenix again and again, but also angry with his kid for not withstanding those forbidden fruits. She abused him for her purposes and he let her abuse him. But Jack was not really angry with his kid, but rather disappointed. He was disappointed, because he let Matty play her games with him. Worst of all, he was disappointed, because Mac didn’t tell Jack upfront what had happened when he called and said he couldn’t make it to the ranch that weekend. It spoke volumes of how little his kid trusted the family’s concept of love and care. Jack’s eyes travelled up and down Mac’s battered appearance. He looked like he had lost a wrestling match and was in the dire need of strict bed rest. Apparently, Mac still didn’t take his own well-being serious. It angered Jack to watch how willing Mac was to run himself into the ground for the sake of others. Jack wasn’t keen on reliving the aftermath of it. The wounds Codex and Russ had left had barely healed and some were still oozing. It had been the right decision for Mac to leave it all behind. He now had to remain hard, because the Phoenix didn’t do Mac any good. But the guilt was still there and Mac couldn’t tell whether it was some sort of survivor’s guilt or the guilt for the mess his parents had created. Anyway, Mac was convinced that his responsibility for his parents’ leftover was undeniable. His responsibility that got in hand with his gift even more so. Jack would so often ask his kid what responsibility he was talking about, because he didn’t understand it. This question would always send Mac reeling for an answer, because how to explain Jack that denying the salvation, if he was the only one who had the means to provide it, meant acting against his social and moral obligations? Jack would understand, but would also reply that Mac had to learn to be a little more selfish from time to time. But it was as difficult to persuade Mac from the social permissibility of a certain degree of egoism as teaching a blind man to see.

No matter what the nature of their constant arguing was, the moment when Mac opened the door, his stomach twisted to knots. This hadn’t been the plan. Mac was genuinely surprised to see Jack at his door and it hurt Jack to notice that his kid really thought he could fool him so easily. And thus, he told him straight to the face: “You know that your assignments are a very lousy excuse, do you? I mean, they’ve never stopped your before from coming to the ranch before. You really think I’m that stupid? Buying that lousy excuse of yours?” Like a child that was scolded for disobeying his father’s command, Mac hung his head low and let Jack’s words wash over him like sour rain. He accepted the accusation that he had insulted Jack’s intelligence and called him stupid. But this wasn’t what Jack wanted to convey. He wanted to tell his kid that there was someone out there looking out for him, someone who listened carefully and picked up the signs of discomfort. Mac didn’t get that message. How could he? Trained to independency so he would never have to rely on someone’s helping hand, he simply lacked the sense to recognise someone’s genuine offer of a safe harbour. And Jack? Jack slowly reached the limits of his patience. He was fed up with his kid’s stubborn ignorance towards the true fatherly love. They were dancing around each other in a vicious cycle unable to understand each other’s point. But both hadn’t given up on one another and thus, Mac stepped aside to let Jack enter his apartment.

Jack took in the disarray which was more than just the usual 'Mac chaos' of countless started projects in various states of being unfinished. Dirty dishes piled up in the kitchen sink. With one arm it was simply not possible to clean them. If it was the left arm you could use while your left side was busted, it was impossible. It was the same with his laundry. He could put it all in the washing machine with one arm and get it out the same way. Bending down was accompanied with a significant level of pain, but that price was worth some clean shirts and underwear. Folding the laundry, however, was something Mac had skipped telling himself that there was no use in folding your laundry when it would get wrinkled anyway. Mac watched how Jack inspected the state of the apartment. His eyes fell on the coffee table.

“So, Matty still tries to persuade you from taking a job nobody else wants?” Jack asked taking the letter with the mentioned job offer from said table. Not a long time ago, Jack would’ve told his kid to take this job, because he deserved it. There had been a time when such a job offer would have been a great opportunity. But that had been before Codex and before the Phoenix had treated her most capable agent as the enemy. That had been before the Phoenix had decided to hunt Mac down like a traitor, shot at him and caged him like a dangerous beast. After witnessing what the Phoenix had done to his kid, Jack wanted Mac as far away from it as possible. For this, he had told Mac a million of times to ignore Matty. He had told him again and again. Mac wasn’t supposed to ruin himself for the sake of others. The others didn’t neither so, why did Mac have to? Jack was sure as hell that there were enough idiots ready to jump in front of a gun for fame and glory, because of narcissism and a hero complex. Matty didn’t need Mac. But both knew that these idiots were the actual problem. They didn’t need people who took too high risks only for fame and glory.

No contracts were signed and Mac hadn’t pronounced a decision. And yet when Jack looked into Mac’s eyes, he knew that he had lost that battle. Then something snapped inside of him and he yelled at Mac whether he was actually nuts to return to that agency that nearly had broken him: “Are you fucking kidding? I mean, what’s wrong with you? This fucking agency nearly killed you and you’re seriously thinking about to return?”

“I might not have much of an option,” Mac defended himself annoyed by Jack’s accusations. After returning from his trip to Nicaragua and his stay in hospital, MacKenndrick had asked Mac to come to his office. He wanted to talk to him about something. Turned out that this ‘something’ had been Matty, somehow. The professor had greeted him with: “It's a mystery to me, but there are people who really want you to work for them.” Apparently Matty had called this man once again and they agreed that in Mac’s case the dates for the necessary exams could be put forward and if he passed, he would get his degree without further need attending the necessary classes.

“I’m sorry to say this Mr. MacGyver,” MacKenndrick had said, obviously not sorry for anything, “but you don’t belong here. The MIT is a place for young minds to thrive, to research and study to broaden their knowledge. You’re disturbing this process. So, if not for me then please for the sake of the other students, take this deal.” And Mac couldn’t deny that maybe this man was right. He didn’t belong to the MIT anymore, but did he belong to the Phoenix? He wasn’t convinced but, somehow, he felt that he was lost and didn’t belong anywhere. At listening to what Mac told him about his conversation with his professor, Jack shook his head. He couldn’t believe that his kid serioulsy thought about taking that fucked up deal.

“Jack, this man’s right. I don’t belong here, where the kids are supposed to learn what I’ve been applying for years now,” Mac replied after Jack asked him furiously why he couldn’t sit it out and get that damn degree the normal way. Mac's answer wasn’t enough of a reason for Jack. His kid’s whatever fucked-up issues weren’t excuse enough to leave a safe environment trading it with one that would get him killed eventually. Jack didn’t want his kid to die and he screamed at Mac: “Do you really want to die like this?” And Mac screamed back: “Of course I don’t want to die! But I also don’t want to feel so fucking out of place either. Damn it, Jack. I don’t belong here anymore!” And Jack didn’t understand, because he always thought that the other half of Mac wanted to be part of this academic intelligentsia. Heck, if not Mac who else fit into this world? Jack didn’t understand that there were certain elites that dispelled everyone who threatened to tear down the walls that granted them exclusivity and the pedestal that let them look down on everyone else while in fact there was nothing special about them.

And they fought. Loud and harsh. Jack yelled at Mac that he was completely out of his mind when he went back to the Phoenix. Mac screamed back at Jack that maybe this time he got a chance to catch Walsh and bring to an end what his father couldn’t anymore. At the sound of that name echoing through the apartment, Jack stopped himself. Suddenly, it started to make sense. Though, with Walsh being back in the game there was a whole new dimension introduced to their argument. Jack cursed his kid and the fact that it always had to be so awfully complicated.

“But Walsh is not your responsibility! If anything, it would’ve been your father’s responsibility to catch this maniac!” Jack countered while it dawned to him that his kid was about to clean up another mess his parents had left behind for him. It was unfair. Usually, it was supposed to be the other way around. Parents were supposed to clean up the mess their kids produced. But Mac couldn’t see it like that. His father had given his life for him. This way he could get a chance to give something back. He didn’t tell Jack, though. He knew full well that it would aggravate Jack’s anger only more. Concluding that they wouldn’t come to a common sense in this discussion, Mac left Jack and went to take a shower. His bruises started throbbing again and he was dog tired. Also, he wanted to wash off the hospital filth which still clung to him. He wished he could wash away whatever stood between him and Jack and that caused all these arguments as well. Mac wished he could understand Jack.

Jack watched his kid trudge towards the bathroom. He counted it as a win that Mac didn’t throw him out even after Jack touched his very own minefield – his parents. He listened to the shower and dropped down onto the bed which stood in the corner of the room under a window. He looked out. It was pitch dark. He watched how the snowflakes danced in the spotlights of the street lamps. Jack didn’t like snow much. He felt most comfortable in the dry Texan heat. It was predictable. Everyone knew that after weeks of solid heat, there would be a thunderstorm which would clean the air from dust and cool down hot tempers. Afterwards it would still be warm, but the air would be soft, because autumn stretched out its fingers. Thinking about Texas and the ranch always calmed Jack down. He sighed. He would have to accept Mac’s decision if he didn’t want to lose him again. No matter how difficult it was, but losing his kid would be much worse. He thought about his Mom. She would worry about Mac, too. But for her it was easier to accept. Afterall, she had raised a household of soldiers and watched her husband and sons go to war. Mac knew where Jack’s fear came from. The Phoenix had nearly wrecked him once. He was sure it would happen again, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from returning.

Mac let the hot water massage his sore muscles. He had just finished towelling himself dry when Jack burst into the bathroom: “Sorry Mac, but I really need to…” forgetting about his need to use the toilette when he saw Mac’s battered torso, the deep bruising on his left back and the bandage on Mac’s side. His worry was back again. He inspected the bruises and hissed sympathetically when his fingers carefully travelled along the tender skin until they reached the side where an adhesive tape covered what Jack was sure was a surgical incision. Jack wasn’t happy. The contrary. His anger was returning with full force.

“I assume you released yourself?” Jack asked through gritted teeth and was surprised that Mac admitted that he had actually stayed five days. That hurt. Jack didn’t let it on though and carefully peeled off the water-repellent adhesive tape that covered the surgical wound. From the combination with the bruises Jack concluded what the damage done was. He bit his lip to not let on the disappointment he felt. His kid had been hospitalised and he hadn’t known about it. Mac simply didn’t call. That stung. It revealed how far away his kid still was from him. And Jack thought that his Mom surely would be pissed off when she found out.

He turned his attention back to Mac: “Are you still peeing blood?” he asked Mac who turned beet red before he mumbled: “A little, but it got better.” And then the little, burning ball of anger and disappointment exploded and Jack yelled once more: “And you didn’t think about telling me? Why?” Forced back into his defence Mac shot back: “Because I didn’t want you to worry!” How Jack hated this sentence coming from his kid. This self-sacrificing uncaring streak was about to become a serious pain in Jack’s ass and he was reluctant to put up with it for much longer.

“It’s my decision what I want to worry about and what not, understood? So, stop keeping these things from me!” Jack yelled at Mac who yelled back: “Why? Look how you react. I was right not telling you!”

“Stop that shit, Mac!” Jack yelled back at Mac who wanted to fight back, but his attempt was cut off by Jack who let his anger run free: “Stop this ‘I don’t want you to worry’ shit. Stop this ‘I can take care of myself’ nonsense, just…stop being so fucking difficult, okay? It would make it easier for all of us!” Mac huffed not letting on how deep that one went. Heck, Jack had just confirmed that he was a nuisance. Nothing but trouble. Great, that was what he had wanted to keep from happening. He congratulated himself for his great success of not giving Jack another reason to worry and fight about. Well done Angus MacGyver, he thought bitterly. He was such a fucking idiot. He felt how the anger he had felt now turned against himself. He had to get out. He squeezed past Jack to escape the crushing confinement of the bathroom, but Jack grabbed his upper-arm and stopped him: “Where do you think you’re going?” Mac shook his head in disbelieve. This was becoming weird.

“I want to get dressed and then get out to clear my head.” Jack translated it with: I want to run and come back as if nothing had happened. But Jack was done with that shit. They’ve done too much of this running away and pretending shit in the past. It was enough and Mac had finally start to learn how to confront a problem properly.

“Get out? In this nasty weather? Are you kidding me?”

“Jack, I need room for myself to think!” Mac snapped. Why couldn’t Jack just leave it alone? Why did they have to fight about it anyway?

“You could ask me to leave for a while,” Jack replied, but Mac snorted: “Yeah sure. Have you seen the weather outside?” Yes, Jack had and for this, the trap snapped shut when he pointed out: “Oh yeah, so it’s okay if you run around in this weather in your condition, while I stay warm and cosy in your apartment? Do you actually realise that this is the fundamental problem with you?” No, Mac didn’t because he had stopped listening to Jack and even if he had listened, he wouldn’t have understood what he was trying to say. Instead, he tore his arm out of Jack’s grip and went to get dressed.

Jack followed him. He watched how Mac got dressed and put on his shoes. His movements were stiff. Jack could tell that Mac had to fight hard not to let a groan or a yelp slip. From what he had seen moving must really hurt in Mac’s state. Jack watched how Mac walked towards the door without any consideration of what Jack had said. This was the moment in which Jack realised that Mac wouldn’t stay to talk things through. His frustration reached a whole new level and he expressed it by yelling: “Damn it, Mac, what went so fucking wrong in your childhood that you’re like this?” Now even Mac had enough and snapped harshly: “Dunno, tell me since you’re the one who recently started analysing my childhood traumas!” They stared at each other fire burning hot in their eyes. Mac didn’t budge. Jack’s word didn’t have the desired effect of Mac realising that he was once again pushing himself too hard and Jack away – also too hard. Mac wasn’t ready to show understanding as he wasn’t ready to understand. This was the moment in which Jack realised that he had to call in reinforcement, but he would give Mac one more chance: “Mac, if you don’t calm down now and stay put, I’ll call Mom,” Jack said calmly, but all he got from his kid was a snarky “Seriously?” before he slammed the door shut and was on his way out.

He ignored the pull in his side. He ignored his screaming ribs. His mind was too occupied with classifying and cataloguing what just had happened. He asked himself why things couldn’t get back to normal with Jack. Why did they have to be so damn complicated? He wanted Jack back. Their friendship, their bromance, the easy-going banter. He didn’t want any of these profound conversations. He didn’t want those arguments. And he asked himself when things had started to become so difficult. It didn’t occur to him that his attempted suicide to protect Jack and his family from Codex and Russ had Jack shellshocked to the core. It didn’t occur to him that something like that was a warning signal and that Jack had perceived it as such. It didn't occur to him that maybe his past had left an unhealthy twist in his thoughts that was becoming dangerous.

The snow blew into his face. The wind was cold. He burrowed deeper into his coat to retain his warmth. At some point, Mac just thought: ‘What’s wrong with me?’ but didn’t come to analyse that question when his mobile rang. He didn’t know the caller ID but took the call anyway. He didn’t make it to -lo of hello when a very angry Edith barked into the phone: “Angus MacGyver, I warn you to turn around right now and go back, do you understand me? This is not how our family works. We don’t run away, but sort it out, got it? And don’t you dare make my fly up all the way to Boston. Then I’ll teach you some manners a way you’ve never learnt before!”

“What?” Mac asked not sure whether he was shocked or surprised or close to a panic attack. To say that he didn’t know what had actually hit him, was an understatement.

“Oh, you understood quite well young man. So, you better go back and talk things through with Jack. If I’ll call Jack again and should I find out that you’re not back resting in bed, you can prepare yourself for something!” And with these last words said she hung up and left a dumbfounded Mac standing in the middle of the pavement. But as soon as the shock had set in, the sooner he sobered up again and decided not to return to the apartment. He hadn’t reached the state of a clear mind yet. It was a bad mistake. It was even a worse one when he picked up his phone when it rang again.

“Angus MacGyver, you’ve been an only child for most of your life and I’ve been very lenient with you, but may god help you if you’re not back in the apartment within the next ten minutes.” Edith’s words ran cold down his spine. He was perplexed and unable to respond something. And his instincts started screaming that it was better if this time he listened. Begrudgingly he trudged back to the apartment where Jack sat on the couch waiting for him. He looked apologetically at Mac when he entered the apartment looking like a dog on which rain had poured down like waterfalls. Jack thought that maybe he went over board when he had called his Mom, but then again it did work. The end justifies the means, he thought when Mac mumbled: “You’re Mom’s scary.”

“I know,” Jack replied dryly. They looked at each other from a distance. It scared Jack. This growing distance. But he closed it and took his kid into his arms, but he felt how Mac fought him inwardly. His body was tense. It was paradox how on the one hand Mac longed for Jack’s comfort but on the other one wasn’t ready to receive it. Jack wanted to say something to appease Mac’s inner turmoil, but his mobile rang. His Mom checked whether her youngest chick had found his way home. Jack confirmed that he had.

“Good, and now give him a hug and make sure he rests. And then you two get your act back together, understood? And don’t forget. He didn’t grow up with us. He had been left to fend for himself at way too young age. That is bound to leave marks and we do have to accept them. So, at least try to understand him. Your father and I haven’t been happy with all of your decisions either.” Jack registered the thrust in his Mom’s words and then turned back to his kid who stood in the apartment like an abandoned puppy looking all sad and lonely. His heart broke. He went over and gave his kid another hug. Mac didn’t hug him back, but leant into the physical contact resting his forehead on Jack’s shoulder. Jack cupped the back his head and held him tight. It was first step. A small one but into the right direction. Then Jack shook his head about the pointlessness of their fight and guided Mac to the bed. Mac sat down and carefully undressed again. Jack assisted him with rebandaging the surgical wound which Mac had totally forgotten about. The edges of the wound were a little red. Irritated from the fabric of Mac’s shirt rubbing against it. With gentle fingers, Jack felt around the wound checking for signs of an infection. But the skin wasn’t hot and it wasn’t swollen either. Mac flinched though. The skin around the wound was sensitive. The prodding no matter how gentle, hurt. Then Jack carefully put an adhesive tape over the wound and helped Mac into comfier cloths. Sweatpants weren’t much of a problem. The t-shirt was. Jack assisted Mac to pull it over by lifting his right arm into the sleeve. And Mac was glad that Jack was there. He had thought that maybe this time, Jack would leave having enough of Mac’s attitude. He didn’t. He was still there, because Jack had no intention to leave his kid. He would stay, talk and fight until it got though his kid’s thick skull that being taken care of was nothing to be sorry for. And right now, Mac relished the feeling of being taken care of. Jack saw it, too and was satisfied. He wished his kid would allow himself a little more help.

“Now let’s get you to bed,” Jack said and Mac lied down. Finally lying down felt good. Jack tucked him in making sure he was warm enough and got ready himself. The hot shower helped to soothe his temper. Mac was who he was. Many people had sinned against him. First and foremost, James MacGyver. That was what Jack suspected. Mac was a hard piece of work, but Jack wouldn’t give up. Little strokes fell big oaks. After the shower, Jack put on comfy sweatpants and a hoodie and then settled down next to his kid.

“I don’t know how you feel about it, but after all the drama I could use some comfort from my best friend good ol’ Bruce,” Jack said before taking the remote for the TV. Mac didn’t mind. He was too tired. He just wanted to sleep away the day, but that proved to be more difficult than expected. His entire left side ached and he couldn’t get comfortable. Jack saw Mac’s struggle and shifted a little closer and positioned himself as a makeshift super pillow. Carefully he tugged his kid towards him his body providing the stability Mac’s battered body needed to not shift and cause more pain. Yes, Mac still did accept Jack’s comfort. Nothing was lost yet. They could work through what stood between them. It didn’t take long and Mac’s breath evened. He was fast asleep before John McClane reached the Nakatomi Plaza. Jack watched his kid and whispered:

“No matter what you’ll decide, I’ll accept it. I only ask you to take a little more care of yourself and maybe not to jump in front of every bullet. I only ask you to let me take care of you.” He got no answer. He didn’t expect one. Mac leant relaxed against him. In his sleep Mac sought for more warmth and comfort and snuggled closer against Jack. Both knew that there was a thunderstorm brewing. They should enjoy the comfortable silence as long as they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Their fight leave Mac questioning himself and he seeks the objective opinion of a friend. He doesn't like what he has to say to him or about him.


	13. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in the past. Mac has a conversation with Bozer pretending to need an objective opinion, while he only looks for someone who backs his plan. Well, he shouldn't count on Bozer who had decided to confront his friends with some hard facts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating last weekend. I had to work seven days of the week straight only to be back at my desk on Monday! Unfortunately, it seems like the work load will double the upcoming week. So, please accept my apologies if I won't manage to post as regularly as you're used to.

_Still in the past in which Mac looks for someone supporting his idea, but all he gets are a bitter truths_

They sat in one of those Cafés Bozer and Mac had discovered years before DXS became part of Mac’s life. It was small, but according to Bozer served the best coffee roast and Mac had to agree. The coffee wasn’t as bitter as the usual coffee from those big coffeehouse chains. It contained a special sort of sweetness even without sugar and drinking the hot liquid felt like pure velvet. It was a nice day. The sun was up early and it wasn’t too hot yet. It would’ve been a wonderful day to spent with his best friend. But Mac felt like he should’ve spent the day alone on his own, because his best friend had decided that it was time to pour neglected, ignored and hurtful truths over him. He did so, because he wanted to protect Mac – to protect Mac from himself. He didn’t want to hurt or humiliate him, far from it. But he wanted him to see. Just like in case of the intervention after Bozer had thought that his friend hadn’t accepted his girlfriend’s death, he wanted to confront Mac with the hard facts hoping he would realise that he had indeed an issue. And Mac? He had opened up this opportunity to Bozer all by himself without realising that he did.

“I’m not sure whether you’re fit for this,” Bozer said looking Mac into the eyes. Mac tried to keep up his poker face, but Bozer didn’t buy it. He very well knew that this wasn’t the answer Mac had wanted to hear from him. But what else was he supposed to answer? He was concerned. And Mac showed an epic reluctance to understand the reason for his concern. This conversation wasn’t what Mac had asked for when he had called Bozer and asked him whether they could meet up. Mac told himself that he needed an objective opinion on Matty’s job offer. Jack wasn’t the right person to ask for it, because he was deadly against Mac’s return to the Phoenix. For this, it was difficult to have a real discussion about it with Jack. He didn’t listen to Mac’s reasoning. He didn’t want to hear any of it, didn’t even try to understand him. He didn’t want to hear that his kid considered returning to a job that would kill him sooner or later. Full stop. So, Mac had asked Bozer.

Getting hold of his best friend had become awfully difficult. Bozer was very busy with his movies. He wrote the scripts, directed and produced them. This was a lot of hard work, but it was rewarded. His movies convinced with their authenticity and the audience was on fire. The first nominations for awards fluttered into Bozer’s mail box. Mac was proud of him and he was happy for him. Finally, Bozer had done what he had always been thriving for: fulfilling his dreams. But to be honest, Mac envied him for it, too. He wished he could do realise his dream, because it had to be fulfilling. Bozer had never before been so content with himself and everything around him. However, for Mac this state of fulfilment seemed so far out of reach, because it came with a catch. You had to know what you wanted and Bozer knew that this was what Mac never came to find out. People around Mac tended to stake expectations up on him which Mac was way too eager to fulfil. Over this, he had forgotten himself and his own needs. Bozer blamed himself for this development, too. Not only had he belonged to those with expectations, but he also had seen this development unfold in front of his eyes, but never had stepped in. How much of what had gone wrong in the past could’ve been prevented if he had stepped on the brake on his friend’s behalf?

Bozer eyed Mac carefully. His friend’s body language screamed disapproval after Bozer had given him his opinion. He went on anyway. It was time to step on the brake, because he could tell that his friend was about to get himself into another mess that would leave wounds too deep as to ever heal.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Bozer said, “Before this Codex mess I probably would’ve been all in for this idea, but now after everything that had happened? You’re still far from well. This Codex thing triggered something. I can see it and I don’t think that returning to this job would do you any good.” Bozer chose his words carefully not wanting to go like a bull at the gate on Mac. He wanted Mac to listen and not to shut down on him, but it was time for the hard facts. And Mac listened as he had always done. Bozer had talked often and a lot to him after Codex and after Mac had claimed to have gotten his bearings back together. Bozer had been the first one pointing out that it was a false assumption. He had done so, while the had Daltons kept silent about their worries giving Mac space to come to his own conclusions. This, however, were conclusions which he avoided to draw.

After Mac didn’t give a verbal sign of understanding and Bozer got the impression that talking to a wall would be more fruitful, he decided to be blunt and started with those hard facts:

“Mac, seriously, this Codex-mission solo stunt that you pulled was not only symptomatic. I would rather consider it as pathologic. It’s this…stubborn self-reliance and independence of yours that has gotten you in this mess in first place. And while I agree with you that we all could have worked a little harder to make you trust us and that it had been on us to create the safe space you needed to develop your ideas and talk to us you also could’ve tried a little harder to trust and rely on us.” Hard facts which Mac didn’t want to hear. Bozer could tell as much. He saw his friend clench his jaw and tighten the grip around the coffee mug. It was a walk on the tightrope now. Mac was so close to shut down on Bozer, because he really didn’t need the blame to be thrown into his face from his friend. Mac was well aware that he had royally fucked up that one. He didn’t get the message which Bozer had wanted to convey. The latter probably should’ve chosen his words more wisely. He got a little deeper into the topic anyway. He wasn’t shy to tell Mac:

“Seriously Mac, I think it’s time to work on what went wrong before DXS and the Phoenix, probably even before your trip to the sandbox. That’s when the problem started to develop and manifest itself in your mind. It’s like there’s a big bug in your brain that tells you to be a self-sacrificing super hero without any super powers. That’s not normal. Not even for your standards. It’s dangerous. You throw yourself in the line of fire without even thinking twice, without thinking at all.” It was this point on which Mac decided it was time to stop Bozer, because he really didn’t need another person starting to analyse his “childhood traumas”. That Jack did so was already more than enough. There was no need for anyone else digging around and holding up treasures of sadness which were the evidence of a rather unusual childhood.

“Bozer, I really appreciate your concern, but don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself? And I really don’t get what this talking about my past got to do with this. Believe me Boze, I’m fine.” Bozer noticed the harsher tone and what Mac wanted to actually say: step out of my personal minefield. Bozer also noticed Mac’s sorry attempt of placating him. It didn’t fall for it. Not anymore. There had been times when he had accepted any excuse no matter how bad, because he needed to. It had been those times in which he didn’t want to know that this friend got hurt and could’ve been killed on a mission. Back then, he had needed the reassurance that his friend was still there and ready to save the day. Now, Bozer thought it was time for someone else to take over and save the day, because his friend had saved enough. It was time for him to save himself. But Mac didn’t realise that he was in the need of being rescued – rescued from himself. This was making Bozer sad. It was sad that his friend was too proud to even consider that he had been hurt more often and more deeply than he wanted to let on. He was the most intelligent person Bozer knew and yet he was fooling himself. Bozer reminded him of that:

“You do remember that we grew up together, do you? I’ve witnessed how your father treated you. I’ve seen Harry’s attempts of being a father. So, you might want to fool yourself, but you cannot fool me.”

And it was so true. Bozer had experienced James MacGyver live and in colour. He had heard James MacGyver tell little Mac that he should think about solving a problem first before asking for someone’s help. He had also heard the expectation that Mac should find out how to fix it on his own. James MacGyver never helped his son with his homework or his assignments. Not like Bozer’s Mom had done. She had sat down and helped Bozer to build a cell for the biology class from a cardboard box, paste and deep-frozen peas. She had shown Bozer tricks to get his maths homework done and check whether he got the correct results. And then at some point, Bozer didn’t need his Mom anymore, because he had Mac. Mac had always been eager to help and never turned down Bozer’s requests. Bozer had been amazed by how much his friend knew and that he knew things they hadn’t learnt in class yet. Only a while later, Bozer realised that this might have been due to James MacGyver’s expectation that Mac stayed out of his hair and took care of his problems himself. Help yourself, because nobody else will, was something Bozer remembered James MacGyver telling Mac. And Mac? He had absorbed his father’s wisdom like a sponge. Hence, Mac started to solve problems before they occurred. He started to read books about everything. Then he started to work on little projects to comprehend what he had been reading about. This had been the basis for Mac’s still ongoing tinkering and thinking about projects he could work on. It had been odd at the beginning until Mr. Ericson found out about Mac’s interest in science and engineering and started to sponsor Mac. Then it had seemed just like a usual nerd thing. That there was a little more behind than just a general interest in science, was something that came only later to Bozer’s mind. His need to have an answer to every problem had become apparent after Charlie had been trapped in that elevator by Mason. Mac had nearly gone crazy when he couldn’t come up with an idea on the spot. After he had realised that he hadn’t the right solution for the problem which cost Charlie’s life, Mac had thrown himself into the infinite depths of physics, because something like that wasn’t supposed to happen again.

Bozer looked at Mac who dutifully listened to his friend’s concerns, but then again, he didn’t, because he didn’t want to hear any of it. He didn’t want to hear that something was wrong with him. And the least he needed was digging up some sorry childhood memories to put on the slide under a microscope. Bozer saw that he reached a limit, but saw no gain in stopping now. It was those rare truths that needed to come out in the open. They had been hidden in the dark for too long. It was time to get to the core.

“So, what I want to say,” Bozer started summing up his monologue, “is that maybe you should first, I don’t know, maybe start to work on some of the issues the Codex debacle had triggered and then make a decision. I mean, to make sure that this is something you really want to do and not, because it is something your father a long time had told you to do.” Mac flinched at his words, because he put the finger on a very sore spot. Mac should’ve seen that one coming. Bozer knew that he was risking Mac to jump up and leave and never talk to him again. But he was also done with walking around this topic like on eggshells. It didn’t help his friend if he pretended that everything was fine while nothing was fine at all. He had kept his mouth shut for long enough. He hadn’t stepped in when Mac had enlisted, although Bozer had known that this decision didn’t have its origins in a genuine desire from Mac, but was stemming from something he had been told all during his childhood.

The real problem – the issue – had surfaced when Matty handed them the letter Mac had sent to her before he had tried to kill himself. The letter had oozed James MacGyver’s indoctrination and it had been the first time that Bozer had realised how dangerous it was. At the same time the puzzle fell into place. Bozer suddenly understood why his friend could lock himself up in a room full of deadly nerve gas. He understood why his friend could give up his safe life at an elite university and enlist only to be shipped off to a war zone. Suddenly Bozer understood that Mac meant what he did and that he was ready to protect no matter the costs. It scared Bozer and as much as he wanted the world to have a super hero who sacrificed himself for their well-being, he didn’t want it to be his friend Mac. Because Mac was no super hero. He possessed no super powers and he wasn’t invincible. Far from that. He was probably the most vulnerable person he knew.

He was stunned when Mac then suddenly asked him: “How? How do I know what I really want?” Because Mac had no clue how to find that one out. Since his father had revealed to him that his life had been staged, he didn’t trust his inner compass anymore. He always expected it to tell him something someone else had whispered into his ear before. He wasn’t aware that he was proving Bozer right.

Bozer once more looked at his friend. This sudden unplanned openness caught him off guard and he needed time to prepare a well measured answer. What he saw was insecurity and it only convinced him that Mac wasn’t fit for that job. He wasn’t fit for life as it was until he hadn’t resolved his issues. And now Mac asked him for help and he replied:

“Do you remember the last few weeks of the summer before you went to college?” Mac had become sullen and very quiet. Today Bozer would say that his friend had suffered from a depressive episode, but he was no expert. It had been bad. Mac wouldn’t even leave the bed for days and Bozer had hated it. It was supposed to be the best weeks of their lives before they parted their ways. Mac had been ruining it with his sour mood. So, one morning he came to pick Mac up to spend an awesome day at the lake. He had seen the paint and the various paint brushes. After asking, Harry had told him that he planned to refurbish Mac’s room when he left for college. Refurbish in this case meant making a guest room out of Mac’s room. Bozer hadn’t thought anything about it and pummelled Mac out of the bed. Mac upon realising what was expected from him finally got up and followed Bozer.

Later that night they had sat with a few other friends around a camp fire sharing beers someone had snatched from his big brother. Mac hadn’t been the only one leaving Mission City for college. Most of them were overly excited to get out of the small town and start a life of their own, though. They had made big plans. Mac didn’t join their happy banter, but sat there quiet and lost in his thoughts. He was about to lose the stable environment of a home. He was thrown out into the world to fend for himself and he didn’t feel prepared enough and not ready for that step at all. Bozer hadn’t known about Mac’s concerns and thus casted him several angry and disapproving looks. And then, Mac flipped the switch, abandoned his sullen state and joined the excitement for the upcoming adventure. It was faked, but Bozer had his friend back for the next couple of weeks. THat was all which had mattered. Mac left for college with a faked grin of faked excitement. Harry refurbished Mac’s room. Mac never returned to his former home in Mission City. After not nearly a year he dropped out of college and went to the army.

Mac remembered with sheer embarrassment those last weeks of that summer, but he didn’t understand where Bozer wanted to get with this until Bozer pointed it out to him:

“You were depressed, scared shitless and not ready to leave. You were scared of losing yet another home. But instead of talking to Harry about it and stubborn as you are you went along as it was expected.” Bozer’s words hurt and what scared Mac was the fact that Bozer looked right through him. Mac didn’t like that much. Mac wanted to stop Bozer from talking any further, but he went on anyway:

“What I want to tell you with this is, that you feel what you want. You only need to allow yourself to feel it and act accordingly.” And Bozer looked into his friend’s eyes and it hurt, because they were struggling to find the right way. That was so uncharacteristic for Mac who always led the way, always had a plan. It was evidence of how severe the damage done by the Codex incident was.

“Maybe you could find someone to talk to,” Bozer suggested, “Someone who can help you to detangle all your issues and to find out what you really want.” Mac huffed snarky at that thinking that now Bozer really went overboard with his concern. Mac still denied the word ‘issue’. Let’s face it, everybody did have a past he or she had to deal with. Mac wasn’t the only one who has had the one or other downfall in his past. Thus, he pointed out to Bozer:

“Boze, everybody does have a bad childhood, somehow. You can ask whomever you want. Everybody will find some childhood trauma to blame his shortcomings on.” Bozer shook his head and replied:

“Maybe that's true, but not all of us were raised and trained from the ground up to be a governmental agent. Admit it, the closer you look at it the more apparent it becomes. I mean that fucking skiing trip in Switzerland is the best proof for it. Or do you think that after everything I learnt about your father, I still do believe that it was an accident as you use to tell me?” Bozer could see how Mac grew irritated. Good, he thought, because it meant that he was getting closer to the core. But he also had to be careful, because the last thing he wanted to achieve was losing his friend over this. Nevertheless, he couldn’t keep himself from telling his friend:

“Mac, you asked my opinion and this here is it: get your shit back together and get some fucking help and if you still think you want to return to the Phoenix, then be it. Then I’m all in for it. But everything else is just suicidal, because it’s tinging your judgement.” And it was these words that somehow set something off inside of Mac who suddenly blurted:

“Why does everybody tell me that I have issues and that I have to get help?” Mac was aware that this was a lame defence and Bozer knew, too and wasn’t shy to remind Mac:

“You tried to kill yourself and if you ask my opinion, I think Matty shouldn’t have rescued you from the psych ward but have you admitted straight away for a couple of weeks. As I’ve said, Codex triggered something and I’m convinced that there is so much more behind it than you are ready to accept. Your readiness to throw your life away is just…not normal.” And Bozer looked his friend deep into the eyes. He wanted Mac to see that what he was about to say was meant well and not to attack Mac.

“And Mac, I’m sorry to say it, but Jack and I are afraid that you might try it again and then what? What if nobody is there to prevent the worst from happening? I’ve already lost one brother. I can’t stand the thought of losing you, too. So please, if we mean anything to you, think about it and please go and get help to sort out this mess,” Bozer pleaded. Mac wouldn’t meet his eyes while he spoke. He felt uncomfortable, embarrassed even. One careless action and he had gotten his friends worried for a life time. How was he supposed to convince them that he would never try to do something stupid like that again? How could he convince himself from it?

So, yes Bozer was right that somehow this wasn’t what Mac had wanted to hear. He thought that maybe the Daltons had a point. Bozer hadn’t lived through the drama like they had – like Mac had forced them to. If Bozer, however, came to a similar conclusion it probably was worth giving it a thought. It was difficult for Mac, though, and at the end he gave up. He didn’t tell Jack about his conversation with Bozer. He didn’t want to provoke yet another argument. Also, Mac didn’t want to admit that Jack maybe had a point. He didn’t want to offer him that satisfaction. And at the end, did he have an actual choice? Not if he wanted to leave college and get back to a job with a decent payment. The idea of staying a whole more two years was just horrific. And thus, he shoved aside Bozer’s and his concerns and ignored the fact that this way he probably wasn’t only endangering himself, but others as well – those he was supposed to protect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outlook: Back in the present it's on Jack to present Mac some hard facts. Edith is worried about the dynamics between Mac and Jack. It's becoming a little explosive. Will the bomb go off?

**Author's Note:**

> Outlook: Some domestic fluff at the Dalton Ranch. The story unfolds slowly at this stage.


End file.
